


On the first day of Christmas...

by Somniare



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: A bit PWP, Apples, Boxing Day, Christmas, Fab Four, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Gifts, Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Laura’s concerned, M/M, New Year’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Possibly a little OOC in places, Robbie’s feeling a bit thick, Robbie’s getting the hang of this, Skin, a proper breakfast, calls from Lyn are enlightening, discovering, five senses, more kisses, no riddles, one meal, pdas, quartets, six answers, six questions, sleepover, taking a gamble, three in a row, wet clothes, what personal space?, what’s in a name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James wants his Governor.  Atypically, his plan is half-baked, taking advantage of the fact Robbie needs some cheering up and it’s Christmas.  Typically, James doesn’t do things by half.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tuesday 25 December, Christmas Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [12 days of presents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/585892) by [Elphen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elphen/pseuds/Elphen). 



> One chapter for each day of Christmas, starting Christmas Day. 
> 
> Like James’ plan, this idea was a bit half-baked, and some chapters are weaker than others and some parts are a bit ramble-y. I was also avoiding writing several other pieces because they weren’t playing nice.
> 
> Elphen's [12 Days of Presents](http://archiveofourown.org/works/585892) planted the brain worm for this. And I'd also like to acknowledge tetsubinatu's [Raisons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/507690) for enlightening me about the Kinsey scale - that has played on my mind for some time, too. Another thanks goes to tets for helping with a kissing query.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters not mine, in any way shape or form.  
> Complete unbeta’d. Large chunks written with a new kitten on my lap and keyboard.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bugger it!”  
  
Robbie Lewis was pissed off; some Christmas this was turning out to be, with all leave cancelled due to the flu and on-call for Christmas Day.  Even if he had been on leave, the unusually high snowfalls followed by today’s ripping storm would have thwarted any plans to head north for the holiday.  The only good news was that he still had power, which meant light, heat and telly.   
  
He’d started to doze off on the couch, jumping in his seat at a loud knock that cut through the wind.  _Bloody hell, who’s out in this lot?_  
  
“James?  What in blazes are you doing here?”  Robbie stared in disbelief at the bedraggled scarecrow in front of him.  
  
“Merry Christmas, Sir, and it is _lovely_ to see you too.”  James’ voice dripped snark but his eyes were bright.  “May I come in?”  
  
“Oh, Christ, yeah, o’course, lad, inside quick before you freeze in place.”  Robbie mentally cursed himself as he all but pulled James inside.  “What on earth have you got there?”  Robbie noticed two bags in James’ hands.  
  
“I come bearing Christmas dinner, Sir.”  James, shedding his coat, bestowed a small, but genuine smile, the warmth in Robbie’s flat soothing his mood.  He huffed a laugh at Robbie’s puzzled expression.  “I’ve come from Mass; the ladies of the parish prepare a large ‘feast’ every year for those who’ve nowhere or no-one else to go to.” He continued quickly to forestall the questions he could see gathering on Robbie’s face, “Anyway, I told them I had a friend whose holiday plans had been foiled and could I get a takeaway.” He spread his arms wide, presenting both bags like a prize.  That was when Robbie noticed the water dripping off his sleeves.  
  
“You’re soakin’, man!” he cried, “Give me those and get yourself in the shower, you’ll catch your death.  You know where the towels are; I’ll get you something to wear.”  Robbie took the bags from James and hip-and-shouldered him toward the bathroom.  
  
Leaving the bags on the kitchen bench, Robbie went to look for anything that might fit James. He paused at the bathroom door, “Chuck your clothes out and I’ll put them in the dryer.”  From the muffled reply it sounded like James was struggling to get his wet jumper off, and Robbie chuckled to himself at the mental image of James trying to get his lanky arms out of wet wool.  Robbie’s wardrobe wasn't extensive and it didn't take him too long to pick out the most suitable items.  _They’ll have to do until his own are dry_ Robbie grimaced.  He dropped the clothes at the door, scooping up the sodden pile puddling there.  As he stuffed them into the dryer a flash of purple caught his attention; he flushed red as recognition dawned.  He quickly went back to his room and found a vest, socks – and a pair of boxers.

 

*****

 

Robbie spread the contents of the bags out on the table and stared in astonishment.  In addition to turkey and the usual sides, there was ham and steak pie, apple pie and plum pudding.  It had been well wrapped and was still hot enough to eat.  Robbie turned when he sensed James behind him, “This is a lot of food for two, Ja--”  Robbie couldn't hold back a snort of laughter.  James stared, his face deadpan.  “ I'm sorry, lad, you’re just too bloody tall and lanky.”  The track pants stopped above his ankles and the sleeves of the jumper a good two inches above his wrists.  “I had to give you those pants; they’re the only ones with a tie left in them – all the rest would fall down.”  He fought not to laugh at James’ discomfort.  “Oh, cheer up, it’s only temporary; your clothes’ll be dry soon.  Get yourself a beer – I think we can risk the one – and let’s make a dent in this lot.”

 

*****

 

Robbie pushed away from the table, more for comfort than any desire to stand up.  “That was bloody marvellous, James, thank you.”  He beamed at James and received a shy smile in return.   
  
“It was my pleasure, Sir.  Knowing you were… that you were missing… I know it’s only one meal, but I hope it’s helped improve your Christmas.”   
  
Robbie looked fondly at James, “More that you realise, lad.”  
  
  


 

 


	2. Wednesday. 26 December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black ice forces a slight change of plans.

Robbie sat behind the wheel of his car, waiting for his hands to stop shaking. Precautionary salting and overnight work by the council had given him a relatively safe run into work – apart from one large patch of black ice near the station. The 180-degree spin half buried Robbie’s car in the banked snow. A frantic banging on the window finally drew Robbie’s attention away from his hands.

A shaken James, having witnessed his Governor’s car spin dangerously out of control, was pointing down at the door and saying something. Robbie shook his head and tried to focus.

“The door, Sir, unlock the door!”

Robbie fumbled for the unlock button; it took him two attempts to activate the locks.

James flung the door open and, crouching down beside his Governor, placed a comforting hand on Robbie’s knee. “Sir, are you all right? Did your head hit anything? Did you...” Realising Robbie was probably in shock, James started to do a physical check himself. “Paramedics are on the way, Sir.”

Beginning to come to himself, Robbie growled, “I don’t need the bloody para...”

“Sir!” James made Robbie look at him, and continued more quietly, “You’d make me go.”

Robbie blinked at James and nodded. Damn the lad, he’s right.

As the paramedics took over, James promised to follow Robbie to the hospital.

“You can’t, man. Innocent’ll need...”

“Bugger Innocent.” Robbie’s eyes widened at the determination in James’ voice. “There’re other witnesses; they can tell her what happened and where I am.”

*****

“Thought you’d be out here.” Robbie raised his eyebrows as James hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette.

“Sorry, Sir, they said you’d be another hour at least.” James was flustered and felt terrible for not being inside when Robbie was released.

“S'alright, lad. I should have been. I promised the doctor I’d go straight home and rest. Said me chauffeur was waitin' outside.” He smiled at James’ huff of relief.

“What did the doctor say, Sir?”

“Nothing immediately noticeable, rest for twenty-four hours and report any new or increase in pain.” He lightly gripped James’ upper arm, concerned by the worry on his face. “It’s nothing serious, lad, they said mild whiplash doesn't always present immediately.” James pressed his lips together and nodded, pushing his worry down for Robbie’s sake. Robbie watched his face carefully, satisfied he would be all right. “Right then, home James.”

“Your wish is my command, Sir.”

*****

Having dropped Robbie at home, and ensuring he was going to rest, James returned to the station. He had to let Innocent know what was happening and collect some items from the office. He’d had specific plans for today; the black ice meant a re-think.

While Innocent was relieved that Robbie wasn't seriously hurt – it was clear his car would be out of action far longer – she wasn't entirely willing to let James off for the rest of the day ...

“...because Lewis doesn't need a nursemaid, Hathaway. Why on earth would you think...”

“Because he can be more stubborn than I can, Ma’am; that’s why.” James blurted. He held his breath and waited for the hammer to fall.

Innocent eyed him coolly. She exhaled sharply, puffing her cheeks out. “Oh, all right, go on. But if I find out the two of you end up carrying on in some foolish manner, you’ll be on cold cases for all of next year. And you are on-call; understood?”

James nodded, trying to hide his delight, “Thank you, Ma’am. We won’t, Ma’am. I understand completely, Ma’am.” He left as quickly as he could without appearing over-eager.

*****

Robbie answered the door to find a tie-less, smiling James, once again bearing a bag.

“What on earth...?”

“I convinced Innocent...” James shook his head, “ Doesn't matter. I didn't bring you a gift yesterday and today is Boxing Day, though traditionally...” James’ words trailed off at Robbie’s raised eyebrows.

“You’d better come in then. You want a cuppa? I was just going...”

“I’ll get it, you sit...” James fussed.

Robbie sighed, his voice gentle, “I’m not a bloody invalid, James, and it’s almost made anyway. Sit down, lad.”

Robbie brought the tea to table. “So – what’s in the bag, then?”

“I was going to give you these after work, but…” James produced two bottles. The first was a very fine, very expensive 40 year old single malt. “This is to be saved for an extremely special occasion; you’ll know it when it happens. This one, on the other hand, is to be enjoyed any time.” It was a 12 year old Stronachie.

“James...” Robbie was speechless, “This is...” Robbie stared into his cup. “I’ve got nothing for you, lad,” he whispered.

James reached across the table and gently tipped Robbie’s head up with his fingers. “ You've let me in, uninvited and unannounced, twice in two days. You clothed me when I was drenched. You've let me into your life. That’s a gift beyond price, Sir. It’s I who still owe you.”

Robbie quietly studied James. “A fine meal one day, two bottles of excellent whiskey the next; you’re spoiling me, lad.” He gave James a deeply appraising look that sent a shiver through him. “Best be careful, James, people might begin to get the wrong idea.”


	3. Thursday, 27 December

 

Innocent had called Robbie just as James was preparing to leave, recommending the Inspector remain at home on Thursday; if something did come up, she was certain James could hold the fort for a day.  Robbie had passed that part of the message on with more than a touch of pride, and cocked his head at James’ wide-eyed surprise.   
  
“Don’t look so sceptical, lad.  You’re good, bloody good; she’ll have you leading your own investigations soon, exams or no exams.”  
  
James had blushed at the compliment, “If I’m good enough for that, Sir, it’s because of what I’ve learnt from you,” he replied quietly.  
  
Robbie squeezed James’ shoulder gently as he said goodnight.

 

*****

 

James shivered at the memory of the look his Governor given him.  _“A fine meal one day, two bottles of excellent whiskey the next...people might begin to get the wrong idea.”_ James had turned the words over in his head late into the night, wondering if Robbie had caught on already.  By morning he’d decided to move ahead as planned regardless – or at least as far as he’d planned.  
  
As he wouldn’t be seeing him at work, James hurried his morning routine to allow extra time to drop into Robbie's on the way.  Robbie's smile when he saw James at his door warmed James down to his toes.  
  
“Didn’t expect to see you today; you got time for coffee?”   
  
“Indeed.”  Robbie ushered James into the warmth and happily took the offered coat.  “As long as I make my nine o’clock meeting with Innocent and Peterson,” – they both pulled a face and James snorted – “I don’t think anyone else will really miss me.”  Robbie handed James a mug of steaming coffee and they settled on the couch.  
  
“Was nice of Innocent to let me stay home, considering she was a bit rabid about ‘all hands on deck’.  Okay, what did you do?”  James had ducked his head and there was a definite pink tinge to his cheeks.  
  
James glanced sideways, “I, ah, _may_ have…over-stated the extent of your injuries and the need to rest, just _a little_.”  He scowled when Robbie huffed.  “I thought she’d assign us to desk duties for a few days, not  _request_ you stay home.”  
  
“You must have been bloody convincing if she didn’t follow through with a check to the hospital – or Laura.”  
  
“The word ‘stubborn’, and various synonyms, along with a variety of colourful adjectives were thrown my way, Sir.”  He turned his head and grinned.  “I’m not in her good graces, hence the meeting with Peterson this morning.”    
  
“Ah.”  Robbie grinned back, “Better you than me.”  
  
James made a small exclamation, pushed up off the couch and went to where his coat was hanging.  He rummaged through the inside pocket and removed a small package.  
  
“What’ve you got there?”  James sat down and handed the item to Robbie, who could now see it was something book-sized in a plastic bag.  “Not more presents, surely?”  Robbie queried.  
  
James shrugged “I thought I’d bring you a movie to pass the time.”   
  
“That’s kind of you lad.”  He smiled fondly at James, “That’s three gifts in three days – you trying to be the Three Wise Men rolled into one?”  Robbie quipped.  
  
“Magi, Sir, the three Magi - a word in use since the fourth century BC to denote …”  
  
“Oh, give over.”  Robbie took a playful swipe at James’ arm and took the DVD out of the bag.  “ _Three Coins In The_ bloody _Fountain_?”  He looked at his watch and studied James intently, one eyebrow raised in a query.  “Did you slip something from north of the border in your coffee this morning, Sergeant Hathaway?”  
  
James squirmed under his scrutiny; this really wasn’t one of his better schemes.  He hadn’t really thought much beyond the basic concept – which had crept into his brain at Lewis’ disgruntled reaction when all leave had been cancelled on the 22 nd – and was very much winging it.  On the plus side – _was it a plus?_ – Lewis didn’t seem to have tumbled on to what he was doing.  James took a deep breath and ploughed on.  
  
 “Unless you’re planning on sitting in front of the television _all_ day, you won’t have time to watch The Lord of the Rings trilogy or even the original Star Wars trilogy.  And, no, I haven’t been drinking.”  He tried to look offended while returning Robbie’s stare, “Would you have preferred something different?  I can get a copy of _The Three Musketeers_ , the 1973 version with Oliver Reed.”  He looked at Robbie hopefully.  
  
Robbie turned in his seat so he could look James face-on, “What’s got in to you today, Sergeant; what’s all this ‘three’ malarkey?”  Robbie frowned; it was a frown that James had witnessed during many interviews, the _don’t-try-to-bluff-me_ look.  
  
It didn’t work on James – well, not always.  He held up his cup, “Apart from some questionable coffee, two cigarettes and piece of toast, nothing’s ‘got in to me’,” he deadpanned.  
  
“Hathaway?”  That voice.  That look.  
  
 _Oh shit._ As Robbie hadn’t caught on, James wasn’t prepared to tip his hand this early and decided to make an ungraceful and rapid retreat.  _Bugger what Robbie thought of that._  He glanced quickly at his own watch, “Oh, look at the time!  I’ve just remembered I have to… before the meeting…  DI Peterson wants…”  He quickly got to his feet, almost overbalancing and toppling onto the coffee table.   
  
Robbie stayed in his seat and watched him silently, perplexed, as James struggled to put his coat on, getting tangled with the sleeves.  
  
“Ah, erm, I’ll, um, I’ll see you tomorrow, Sir, pick you up.  Eight o’clock?”  Robbie nodded once.  “Ah, yes, good, well...bye, Sir.”  And with a quiet slam of the door James was gone.  
  
Robbie stared at the door and back to the DVD, his frown deepening.  _What on earth…?_  



	4. Friday, 28 December

James arrived at eight sharp, immaculately groomed as usual.  He savoured the days when, for whatever reason, he had to pick up Robbie in the morning, and felt a little guilty at how thankful he was that Robbie’s car was out of commission.  They had a routine of sorts: James would drink his coffee while Robbie finished getting ready, and sometimes they shared breakfast.  They’d toss around ideas about the current case, and James would listen attentively as Robbie relayed Lyn’s latest news.  Occasionally James would volunteer a snippet about himself.  Robbie knew better than to ask.  
  
The only difference today was that James did all the talking, bringing Robbie up-to-date with station gossip; Robbie noticed James carefully avoided any mention of the meeting with Peterson and he didn’t ask.  ‘James the Storyteller’ was a rare incarnation and Robbie garnered more pleasure from watching him than the actual stories; when he was in this mode, animated and unselfconscious, James could make an post-mortem report sound entertaining.  Everything was as it should be and a peace settled over Robbie that yesterday’s odd behaviour was just a blip, possibly a result of a topsy-turvy week.  He sighed when he glanced at his watch.  
  
“We’d best get a move on, lad, don’t’ want to push Innocent’s goodwill too far.”  
  
While Robbie fixed his tie and donned his jacket, James rinsed the cups and plate, at home in Robbie’s kitchen.  At the door James stopped and, without a word, straightened Robbie’s tie.  He blushed when Robbie caught his eye.  “Can’t let Innocent think I’ve let your standards slip,” he quipped, his eyes darting away; Robbie saw the nervous swallow and filed it away.  
  
When James started the car, The Beatles poured out of the speakers, a far cry from James’ usual choice of music.  Robbie pointed to the CD player and frowned quizzically.  “Sergeant?  A bit _popular_ for you, isn’t it?”  
  
James’ expression was unreadable.  “I have eclectic tastes, Sir.  I was exposed to The Fab Four quite a bit as a child.”  He turned the volume up – loud enough to stifle conversation but not enough to be considered too loud.   
  
Robbie gave him a bemused smile.   _Fab Four? Why didn’t he just say the Beatles?  Not like James to use… Hell!  Numbers again._   Robbie went to ask him about it but when James started to sing along, Robbie stopped in surprise, relaxed into the seat and listened silently.  He puzzled over the significance of the numbers during the short drive.  He was positive he was being a bit slow on the uptake; perhaps he’d knocked his head a bit harder than he’d thought.  He’d talk to Laura later and see what she thought – about his head and James.  For now he determined to watch and listen to James very carefully.

 

*****

 

As it turned out, it wasn’t that hard to do as paperwork was to be the order of the day.  Frustratingly for Robbie, Laura paid them a visit in their office, putting paid to Robbie’s plan to talk to her privately and get her opinion on Hathaway’s ‘numerical’ behaviour.  Something was nagging at the back of his mind and he was certain, if someone just said the right words, it would come to him.  _Damn it, I’m not_ that _old._  
  
James was solicitous and attentive – a little too attentive: as though he could read Robbie’s mind, there was a fresh cup of tea on his desk just when he needed one; he ensured Robbie took regular breaks; and, made him go out for lunch rather than wolfing down a sandwich at his desk.  As they walked to the café, James stayed close to his side, steering him around unsalted ice on the footpath with a gentle tug or push on his elbow.  Initially put out, Robbie soon accepted James’ actions for the simple care and concern they represented.  He also enjoyed the intimacy of the touch; he liked having James so close.

 

*****

 

The day passed without any further obscure or oblique references to the number four, and Robbie now regarded it as a coincidence.  They left the office shortly after five, chased out the door by Innocent and Laura who both scolded James for keeping Robbie at his desk for so long.  Robbie tutted, James smiled and bowed.  In the car, James changed the CD for the trip home.   
  
Robbie listened to the opening bars, “Who’s that then, James, doesn’t sound familiar; not that I know a lot, but after thirty years in Oxford I think I’ve heard bits of most.”  
  
“Saint-Saëns’.  It’s the Medici String Quartet.”  James’ eyes never left the road, not even a flicker.  
  
Robbie closed his eyes slowly, pursed his lips and nodded, “Quartets.  By a quartet.”  His speech was slow and deliberate.  
  
“If you prefer, I can change it, I’ve some Vivaldi in the glove compartment – _Le quattro stagioni_.”  Expressionless, eyes fixed dead ahead.  
  
“No, no, this is fine.”  Robbie stared out the side window.  _Le quattro stagioni – The Four Seasons – does he think I’m stupid?  We’re back to bloody numbers again._  
  
At the flat, Robbie declined James’ offer to stay for a while.  “S’been a longer day than I thought, I’m just going to shower and crawl into bed.”  
  
“You should eat, Sir, you need to...” James stopped, startled, as Robbie yawned so wide his jaw cracked.  “Or perhaps you should sleep, yes.  Good night, Sir.”  
  
“G’night, James.”  Robbie quietly closed the door and leant heavily against it.  In his pocket, his phone rang.  The expletive on his tongue died when he saw ‘ _Lyn_ ’.  
  
“Hello, Love.  Checking up on your old man?”  
  
Robbie folded himself onto the couch as he talked to Lyn.  In the background he could hear music.  “Are you still playing Christmas carols, pet?”  
  
Lyn laughed, “Bub seems to like them and anything that encourages laughter and sleep is fine by me – I’ll play them year round if it means sleep.”   
  
It was barely half six when Lyn said good night but Robbie was shattered.  As he settled under the duvet, Robbie found himself humming the last tune he heard over the phone – and it hit him.   He sat bolt upright and started chuckling:  _one meal, two bottles of scotch, Three Coins in the Fountain, Fab Four; is James doing his own version of the Twelve Days of Christmas?  Surely not?  But it fits._   One thing he was certain of – he’d be on the lookout for ‘fives’ tomorrow.


	5. Saturday. 29 December

 

Robbie was certain the early call-out would put paid to any 'fives' James had planned today, except that James had called him at exactly 5:05am.  It had to be coincidence as James was unlikely to delay a call to a crime scene for a prank, _wasn’t he?_.  Robbie sighed to himself as he wondered how he would discretely check the timing of the call to James.  
  
James arrived shortly after with two cups of petrol station coffee.  “It’s caffeine, Sir,” he said quietly, “Any port in a storm.  Block your nose and you won’t taste it.  Trust me.”  
  
Robbie took the cup and hoped in vain that it would be reasonably drinkable.  As James pulled into traffic, Robbie listened carefully, and relaxed as the announcer’s voice came in at the end of the song.  No CD, no deliberate choice of music.  No intentional fives.

 

*****

 

James stood behind Laura, observing as she and Robbie crouched down beside the body of the young man by the Cherwell.  He roughly cleared his throat, “I think it's a failing of modern policing that we don't regularly utilise all five senses at a scene of crime.”   
  
Robbie dropped his head and let out an audible groan.  Laura’s head swivelled from James to Robbie and back to James, whom she fixed with an icy glare.  “I, for one, Sergeant, have never tasted anything on or off a corpse, and I'm not about to start now.  But go ahead, be my guest, Hathaway.”  
  
James shuffled his feet, muttering something inaudible.  A cry of “Sergeant” saw him pivot stiffly and stride away purposefully from the awkward tableau.  
  
Laura, clearly worried, turned to Robbie, “Is James…? I know he can spout some rather fanciful ideas at times but _that_..?”  
  
Robbie shrugged.  What could he say?  This wasn’t really the time or place to start that discussion.  “He had a meeting with Innocent and Peterson the other day, maybe it’s a carryover from that.”  Laura looked unconvinced.  Robbie tried again.  “You know what he’s like, Laura; gets an idea in his head and turns it over in his own mysterious way, then...”  Laura frowned but chose to let it go, cautiously trusting that Robbie knew best when it came to James.   _Barely after six, freezing our arses off by the river and he's snuck in his first – God I hope it's his first – ‘five’.  And he’s got Laura worried into the bargain._  And what could he say to James?  It was shaping up to be a long day.

 

*****

 

It was turning out to be a relatively straightforward case and Robbie wanted it closed as quickly as possible  He had James divide the leads into two related groups and sent James off with DC Lockhart, while he called on Hooper to assist him.  He was caught off-guard by the brief flash of distress on James' face when he'd outlined his strategy, but refused to feel any guilt.  He didn't want to start a discussion with James about his intentions while they were in the middle of an investigation, and if James started spouting 'fives' at him Robbie wasn't at all sure what he would do.  
  
Robbie wanted to find a way to let James know he’d made the connection between his slightly odd behaviour, the numbers and the carol, but blurting it out felt _wrong_.  He couldn’t say why, other than it felt rough and coarse compared to the way James was ‘playing the game’ because, certainly, this was just a game.  The implications if James was serious were a little unsettling for Robbie to think about.  In the song the gifts were from ‘my true love’; the possibility that this was what James was implying both frightened and exhilarated Robbie in equal measure, and he didn’t want to mess anything up, whichever way things were destined to go.

 

*****

 

By late afternoon, Robbie had successfully negotiated James’ request for change for a fiver without reacting; doggedly ignored the many pentagrams and pentagons James had doodled over his blotter while he was on the phone; and confirmed that the desk had indeed called James at 5am.  However, by the time they left work later that evening, Robbie was no closer to finding a way to talk to James.   
  
Solid police work had their murderer in custody and the last of the paperwork could wait until Monday.  Robbie had been advised he wouldn’t have a car until the Monday after New Year, so he was reliant on James.  Thinking about the complete lack of anything to eat in the flat, he asked James to stop at Tesco’s on the way home.   
  
Back at Robbie’s flat, James automatically helped carry in the few bags of groceries and unpacked.   Robbie noted the ease with which James moved around his flat, putting things in their right place.  There was a comfort in James’ familiarity, the sense that he belonged here.  He was still preoccupied with his thoughts when James asked if he could have one of the apples Robbie had just bought.  Robbie nodded and, unsurprisingly, James gathered a plate and knife without hesitation, and sat at the table.  Robbie watched as James very precisely quartered and cored the apple.   
  
“Oh,” he breathed, and James cocked his head.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Robbie picked another apple out of the bowl and sat down opposite James.  “Did you know,” he stretched across and gently plucked  the knife from James’ fingers, “When you cut through an apple `the wrong way' you get a five-pointed star.”  He watched James carefully as he sliced the apple in two and handed half to him.  “I realise it’s not quite five gold rings...”  
  
James took the fruit, deliberately brushing his fingertips against Robbie’s, his smile saying more than words ever could.  That Robbie had caught on would make the next seven days more interesting, but James had no idea if it would make them easier or harder; that would depend on Robbie.  Capturing Robbie’s gaze, James winked and bit into the apple, his eyes flickering darker as he did so.  Robbie’s stomach flipped in a way it hadn’t done for a great many years.  When he spoke, he prayed his voice was steadier than his body felt.  “So, do you have six geese a-laying hidden away somewhere?”  
  
James’ eyes never left Robbie’s and his voice had a rough edge, “No.  No geese; indeed no poultry or eggs of any kind – however…  I do have something that may... bear fruit.  Tomorrow.”  
  
He gathered up the apple pieces and. saying no more beyond “Good night, Sir,” he departed, leaving Robbie seated at the table waiting for his legs to stop shaking. 


	6. Sunday, 30 December

James’ silence made Robbie irritable.  No, Robbie’s lack of sleep made him irritable; that he hadn’t heard from James all day worried him.  James had offered him six of, of – something – today; he assumed it was six.  Had James given a number?  Robbie started to fret a little; had he tipped his hand, was James backing away?  That would be rather unfair – after all James had started it.  Robbie shook himself when he realised he was actually pouting into his mug of tea.  He quietly blamed James for that as well.  
  
The room darkened considerably while he sat there, and the wind picked up again.  For the second time that week he was snapped out of his reverie by a knock.  
  
James made no attempt to enter the flat.  Neither spoke.  Robbie stepped forward and tugged at James’ elbow, giving him a small push toward the couch when he finally walked in.  The beer was offered and accepted in silence; Robbie sat next to James, as usual, and took a long drink while James picked at the label on his bottle.  Robbie broke the silence.  
  
“So,” he rasped, and quickly cleared his throat, before continuing softly, “No ‘sixes’ for me today?  Has the game stopped because I guessed?”  
  
James glanced shyly sideways.  “No, it hasn’t stopped – and it’s not really a game.”  He half turned in his seat and his gaze brushed over Robbie’s face.  “Here’s your six.”  He took a deep breath before blowing the air out as though exhaling an unseen cigarette.  “You can ask me six questions – anything you like – and I’ll answer truthfully, perhaps not fully, but honestly, without riddle or side-step.  This is a one-time only offer, Sir.”   
  
Robbie looked carefully for any sign at all that James was taking the mickey.  He saw only openness and, if the eyes truly were the window to the soul, a soul laid bare.  The trust James had bestowed upon him in one sentence was enormous and Robbie took some time to answer.  He was not only dealing with James – his strengths and frailties, his hopes and fears – he was being forced to face his own.  He discarded the question that had nagged him for years, and the one James most likely expected. He has his suspicions, and his own (hopefully so far concealed) hopes, and doesn’t want to be misinterpreted or to misinterpret James, or scare him away.  
  
Robbie focussed on the here and now, and started with what he felt was a safe question. “Is there a purpose to what you’re doing with this twelve days thing?”  
  
“Yes.”  James took a swig to hide his expression.   
  
Robbie waited.  _Is that it?  One word?  Sod._   Annoyed, he blurted, “When?  How?  Why?” turning his body towards James at the same time.  
  
“That’s three questions, Sir.”  The faintest of smiles crossed James’ face, “Do you want to use your questions that way or would you like to rephrase?”  
  
Robbie glared at him briefly and snorted softly. “Okay, when and why did you decide to do _this_?” He waved a hand in the air.  
  
“That’s still two questions, Sir?  Quite sure about this?”  Robbie nodded.  James looked Robbie firmly in the eye.  “I’ve been thinking about it ever since dragging you to the dentist – clearly somebody has to look out for you, and take a ‘hands-on’ approach.”  
  
Robbie blinked.  That was months ago, but he doubted he’d forget James’ gentle persistence and follow-up.  The last person to ever hold his hand through something, without _actually_ holding his hand, was Val.     
  
Robbie opened and closed his mouth several times and took another long drink – his bottle nearly empty, James’ barely touched.  There was a considerable pause before Robbie spoke again, long enough to make James nervous.  
  
“What do you mean by _look out for_ , as it applies to me?” Robbie asked carefully.  
  
James put his ignored beer on the table and, pushing himself back, turned completely, his back pressing against the armrest.  He tucked one leg under himself and his knee nudged Robbie’s thigh.  
  
He quietly asked, “You’ll forgive me if I’m a tad direct, blunt even?” and waited for Robbie’s acceptance.  “You need a voice in your ear, someone to argue with and to make you consider and, where necessary, reconsider your choices.  You need someone to care about, to give you a bit of a reason for your life decisions – Lyn and Mark have, in your words, ‘grown and flown’; they no longer truly occupy that space.  You need someone to gently bully you when you’re stubborn and won’t do what’s best for you.  You need to be physically close to someone, to touch and be touched.  You need someone to love and be loved by.”  
  
Pennies start to rain down in Robbie’s mind, with one thought after another trying to tumble out.  “Are you…?”  He bit his lower lip.  James tipped his head to one side, his face unreadable.  
  
Robbie exhaled deeply and started again.  “I don’t think you’re gay; I know you’ve been with women, but...  you’re not completely heterosexual, are you?”  James blinked and a smile twitched the corner of his mouth.  
  
He paused before answering.  “No.”  He smiled shyly, “I’m neither completely heterosexual nor strongly homosexual.  I’m somewhere in between, but not dead centre.  I’m… adaptable, I suppose you could say.  However, I don’t give my heart readily, despite what you think you may’ve seen.  Where my heart sets its happiness depends on the person.”  He held Robbie’s eyes with his own, open and without pretence.  
  
Robbie felt lost in James’ gaze, such was its intensity and depth.  “Do you…  are you saying…”  He swallowed hard, briefly debating the wisdom of his next words – and his last question.  “Am I that person?”  He spoke in a firm whisper, fearful anything louder would shatter the air around them.   
  
James matched his voice, “I have hoped you’d consider it.”   
  
"Okay."  Robbie was surprised at how easily that one word came out.  
  
James' face lost every angle and line.  'Soft and pale' was Robbie's first thought. "James?"  
  
A sharp breath.  "You're...  You...?  Are you...?"  
  
Robbie tentatively rested his fingers on James’ knee.  "Do I want to give it – give us – a shot?"  James nodded slowly, speechless, wide eyes fixed on Robbie’s face.  "Yeah, I think I do.  But…"  Robbie took a steadying breath, “You’ll have to guide me, James,” Robbie stammered, “I don’t... I haven’t... I’m not completely sure...”  
  
James pressed a finger to Robbie’s lips, and leaned in close enough for Robbie to feel the heat off his body.  “There are still six days of Christmas left, Sir.  Let’s see what they bring.  You can say ‘stop’ at any time.  _Any_ time.”  He moved his finger from Robbie’s lips, brushing up the side of his face until he was lightly cupping Robbie’s cheek.  They sat in silence until James felt the trembling leave his hand.  He drew his hand away slowly, fingers caressing Robbie’s neck, and rose in one graceful movement.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.  At eight,” he murmured, “Good night, Robbie.”  
  
Robbie stayed on the couch for some time after James left.  _Well, that was...unexpected?  Maybe not.  God, where to from here?  No going back now._

_*****_

James sat on his couch, staring into the depths of his now-empty glass.  He’d expected a variety of questions, from a blunt “are you gay?” to “tell me about Crevecoeur” – all fair, honest and acceptable questions – and he would have answered them.  He never dreamt the night would end as it had.  He’d won Robbie.  No: ‘won’ wasn’t right, and wooed didn’t fit.  _Dear God, Robbie_ wanted _him, wa_ _s willing to leap into the unknown for him._   But exactly _how_ far was Robbie prepared to go; would it end with hugs, kisses, sex or tears?  ‘Six days’ he’d told Robbie and six days it would be.  And then if it took six months after that he would be patient.  Even if Robbie proved to be willing to move faster, one day at a time gave them space, room to step back.  The last thing he wanted was to lose Robbie’s friendship.  James had waited so long for this he knew he could wait longer, though his resolve would be tested with each stage.  Six days.  Not even a full week.  He could do this.  They could do this.


	7. Monday, 31 December

James drank his coffee in silence, waiting for Robbie to sit back at the table; when he did, James studied him intently.   
  
“Something amiss, Sergeant?” Robbie queried with raised brows, “You’re looking at me as though I’m a foreign object.”   
  
“Just wondering if you’d changed your mind at all, about last night.”  James spoke cautiously. When Robbie had greeted him at the door he’d expected – what, a kiss, a hug? – at the very least, something other than ‘business as usual’.  
  
Robbie slowly lowered his cup, “I had a moment of panic after you left, but, no, I haven’t changed me mind.”  
  
James nodded, “I’ve been thinking about today, and what would be the best way to – proceed.  I...  I thought I’d anticipated the questions you’d ask, given the opportunity, and...  I certainly didn’t expect...  I had a list of gifts to bring, depending on how things were going.  For today, I’d planned to engineer an invite to bring takeaway and a movie – I’d narrowed it to either _Seven_ or _Seven Samurai_.  But now...”   
  
Robbie was the first to look away, the longing in James’ so evident to him now that he knew it was there.  He wanted to kick himself.  _How had I never seen it before?  Did he hide it that well or was I just...oblivious?_  “I asked you to guide me James, an’ I meant it, so whatever you think...”  
  
James gaped several times; Robbie was aware of James’ eyes darting over him – eyes, mouth, body, hands.  He half expected James to leap across the table at him, and admonished himself for being foolish.  For God’s sake this was James; the man generally had more control than anyone else Robbie had ever met – that he’d not been fully aware of James’ feelings until now was good proof of that.  
  
“There is something,” James finally spoke, “But it would have to wait until after work.  Is that... would that be acceptable to you?”  
  
“I’m in your hands, James.”  He saw James not quite manage to suppress a shiver.

 

*****

 

In the first hour they’d completed the paperwork for their ‘alleged’ murderer, and been invited to Innocent’s New Year’s Eve party.  Neither had been quick enough to come up with an excuse and, as she swept out to round up more guests, they’d stared dejectedly at each other across the room; Robbie because he believed James’ plans were scuttled, James because he wanted to be selfish and keep Robbie all to himself.

 

*****

 

Their day was awkward and stilted after that, and when they called it a day they walked to James’ car in a prickly silence.  Robbie finally spoke only when James turned in the opposite direction to his flat.  “Oi, did you forget you had to take me home.”  The tension made his words harsher than they needed to be, and he accepted James’ glare without remark.  James released a huge sigh as he pulled up at his own flat.   
  
“Since we appear to have no choice but to at least make an appearance at this wretched party, I thought I’d collect my gear and get ready at yours.  As long as we’re there by ten _she_ can’t say much and I can – we can...  maximise...” James fumbled with the door, “Give me ten minutes.”   
  
The solitude in the car gave Robbie too much space to think and he would have driven himself home – if James hadn’t taken the keys.  What on earth were they thinking?  They should spend some time apart, put this behind them now as foolish nonsense and move forward, however uncomfortable it might be for a time.  The sound of a door closing drew his attention back to James’ building and, as he watched him cross the street toward the car, Robbie was hit forcibly by the realisation that he did genuinely, and with all his heart, want to give this, give them, the best shot he could. 

 

*****

 

James fidgeted awkwardly on the couch waiting for Robbie to come out of the loo.  Despite the heater, James could feel the cold creeping in.  Of course, he could always put his shirt on, but that would defeat his purpose.  He needed Robbie to come out and find him half-naked.  He needed to see Robbie’s reaction.  
  
At the sound of the door, James jumped to his feet and stood facing toward the bathroom.  He fought his impatience as Robbie went to the bedroom, before coming back to the living area; he had his head down as he tucked his shirt in.  “James, why have you only got the lamp..”  When he looked up, his hand froze down the front of his trousers..  
  
“Touch,” James blurted; Robbie stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “What I mean is... I think you should... It would be – good – to learn to touch – and be touched – to be comfortable with it, with a man, me, that is.”  James fought his own nerves, all too aware of the many ways it could go wrong.  “In keeping with the day, there are seven places I want to touch, want you to touch.  But...you need to take your shirt off.”  He held one hand out to Robbie, beckoning him closer, away from the brighter hall light.  Robbie moved slowly toward him, reaching for him.  Robbie’s fingers fumbled with his buttons and James took over, taking care not to brush against his bare skin as he helped Robbie pull his shirt off.   
  
Robbie fleetingly thought he should be self-conscious; however, the dim light and James’ warm, caring gaze quelled any misgivings.  
  
James cupped Robbie’s face between his hands, and slowly began to trace his features – forehead, ears, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin, ending with his lips.  He worked to keep his breathing and hands steady and unhurried.  James lowered his hands and swallowed a sigh when Robbie followed his lead.  James momentarily closed his eyes as Robbie’s fingers played lightly over his face, parting his lips with a soft exhale as Robbie’s thumb traced their outline.  “What’s next?” eventually came the hoarse whisper.   
  
“Neck.”  
  
“Show me.”  
  
They progressed from neck to shoulders , and onto arms; James traced the lines on Robbie’s palms.  Robbie followed James’ example, becoming more self-assured with each new stage. He was relaxed and calm.  It was nothing like he’d expected and more.  Completely different to Val, yet so familiar and comforting.  He traced the gooseflesh as it rose on James’ skin, felt the trembling under his fingertips and drank in the knowledge he had caused it.  
  
James was burningly aware of the time but reluctant to rush; his small voice of self-doubt was certain, that at any time, Robbie would bring an abrupt end this exploration.  James raised his hands and placed his palms flat in the centre of Robbie’s chest.  Robbie took a sharp breath, his chest rising under James’ hands, and closed his eyes. 

 

Although James moved cautiously, Robbie jumped when James first brushed his nipples, rigid and extra-sensitive from the stimulation.  Robbie had always responded well to touch, but the memory had dimmed over ten years.  James was the first person to handle him this intimately since Val, and his body was remembering better than his mind – a fact made evident by the twitching of his cock.  _Dear God, was James..._   Robbie kept his eyes closed, and focused on simply breathing.

 

James was humbled and aroused by Robbie’s trust and fought the urge to kiss him senseless in gratitude.  Instead, he took Robbie’s hands and placed them against his own chest.  Robbie’s eyes shot open and James froze, waiting for him to pull back and away; his knees nearly buckled when Robbie smiled at him and swept his hands slowly and confidently over James’ chest, stomach and ribs, coming to rest on his hips  
  
James mirrored Robbie’s position, stepping closer so that they were nearly chest to chest; bowing his head, he touched his forehead to Robbie’s and whispered, “Copy me. At the same time.”  His throat was so dry, James was amazed he had a voice.  He slipped his arms around Robbie’s waist and up his back, pulling him into a hug.  Robbie sank into James’ embrace without hesitation, a soft sigh flowing warmly across James‘ neck.  
  
Robbie followed James’ lead, as strong fingers traced vertebrae and ribs; kneaded shoulder blades and massaged sides; and heads came to rest on shoulders.  A tiny voice whispered in Robbie’s mind, comparing his body to James – firm with not-so-firm, smooth with rough, young with old; the slow rise of panic was swiftly banished by James’ sighs of contentment and eager hands.   
  
Robbie pulled back slightly, enough to bring his lips to James’ ear, “I think I see...” he panted, warm breath tickling James’ neck, “the pattern.  This is the seventh place, isn’t it?” and his hands stroked over James’ arse, slowly squeezing his cheeks and eliciting a squeak of surprise from James.  It took every inch of James’ self control to not nip at Robbie’s shoulder or neck and he had to forcibly will his erection to settle.  He briefly ran his hands over Robbie’s arse and abruptly pulled away.  He stared at Robbie, speechless.  
  
“James?”  Confused by James’ actions, uncertainty was threatening to engulf Robbie; it had been good, better than good – had he done something wrong, was James having second thoughts?  
  
James took a step back from Robbie and ran his hands through his hair; he was breathing heavily.  “I...  We shouldn’t go...  Innocent’s...  I’m not sure I could keep my hands off you and...”   
  
Robbie had dropped to the couch with a sharp laugh, “Jesus, James, you...  I thought...”  He rocked forward, covering his face with his hands, bringing his elbows to rest on his knees.  James quickly dropped into the seat next to him, one hand lightly against his back; he felt Robbie shiver.  
  
“Sir?”   
  
Robbie took a shuddering breath, “I’m alright, lad, just a bit...  overwhelmed.”  He glanced sideways at James, “But you might want to think of dropping the ‘Sir’ if you’re planning anything like that again.”  He smiled shyly at James, and watched with relief as the alarm left his eyes.  “You’d best make sure whatever you’ve got planned for ‘eight’ is gentler; I’m not sure I’m ready for anything like that two nights on the trot.”

 

*****

 

They flipped a coin to determine who would call Innocent and say they wouldn’t make it.  Neither could face the prospect of trying to behave anywhere near normal, not tonight.  Not in front of a house filled with trained police officers, and certainly not in front of Laura.  Robbie was relieved when it was Chris, the CS’s son, who answered the phone, and quickly rattled of his tale of a bad pub meal and both of them sick, as James waved his goodbyes from the door.


	8. Tuesday, I January, New Year's Day

A lie-in on a work day was unheard off.  Robbie stretched out in bed, thanking James’ overly-attentive, if slightly misguided, attention to details; he could almost ignore the fact it was a Bank Holiday for most.   
  
When ‘ _James_ ’ flashed up on his phone a mere ten minutes after James had left, he’d felt a mix of delight and dread.   
  
“Sir, I advise you get a taxi in for, say, ten, tomorrow and I’ll drive in around nine.”  To the point and as clear as mud.  James didn’t sound like someone who’d been...manhandling his half-naked superior less than an hour ago.  
  
“James.  Start again.  And the whole conversation this time.”  He swore he could hear James roll his eyes.  
  
“If Innocent believes us to be sick, we can’t arrive together at the usual time tomorrow.  Would be a bit of a giveaway, don’t you think?”  The patient, slow voice used for those who don’t quite catch on.  James had a couple of those; this was the one least likely to earn him a virtual clip around the ear.  
  
“She’s not in tomorrow, so it wouldn’t really matter, but having a recorded late start could be useful, if she were to ask around.” Robbie ignored the smug noise at the other end, “But, the way I see it, as you _are_ supposed to be driving me this week, we either arrive late together, or only one of us turns up – ideally you, or neither of us turns up.  Which do _you_ think will look best at the end of the day?”   
  
“Fine,” said James, after a lengthy pause, “I’ll call the desk in the morning before I come around for you.  Good night, Sir.”  
  
An idea formed as Robbie drifted off into an easy sleep; as he recalled the feel of James’ hands on him, his hand curled lightly around his twitching cock.

 

*****

 

James called Robbie at nine and arrived at the door twenty minutes later.  As he followed Robbie to the kitchen, his fingers curled lightly around Robbie’s elbow, fingertips drifting down to Robbie’s hand, where James softly clasped Robbie’s palm.   
  
“Happy New Year, Sir,” he said quietly  
  
He closed his eyes with relief and delight as Robbie curled his fingers over his and gently squeezed once before they both let go.   
  
“Happy New Year, James.”  
  
James took the offered mug and plate, grateful to have something to do with his hands.  He shyly glanced up and smiled at the quiet affection in Robbie’s eyes.  The knot that had plagued his gut all morning unravelled.  
  
“Sleep well?” James ventured.  
  
Robbie’s smile grew wider.  “Best sleep in months, thanks to you.”  
  
James, waiting for this dream to crash down, couldn’t eat and settled for caffeine; Robbie didn’t make the best coffee, but he did make it strong.  Robbie watched James in wonder, trying to work out how one person could look simultaneously at peace with the world and as though he was ready to bolt from the room.  _Just James_ he thought.  
  
James was rarely the conversation starter in the morning, always waiting for Robbie to begin.  Sometimes it was work, sometimes telly or a book.  Sometimes it was not entirely unexpected, but surprising just the same.  
  
“Have you thought about today?” Robbie began.  
  
Making the most of the tacit permission to touch, James picked up Robbie’s hand where it rested on the table, his thumb stroking across Robbie’s knuckles.  “A little.  I was wondering…”

  
“I’d like you to call me Robbie,” Robbie blurted, “ _at least_ eight times…”  
  
James raised his eyebrows and, in a sing-song voice, recited, “Robbie, Robbie, Robbie, Rob--…”  
  
“…in public.”  
  
“Ah.”  James’ thumb stopped mid-stroke, fingers tightening around Robbie’s.  
  
“But none of your snark though.  Use it properly, like you would if we were...”  Robbie’s ears slowly turned red and his eyes dropped to their joined hands, “If we weren’t colleagues.”  
  
James nodded, blinking; this wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind, but he liked it.  
  
“However,” Robbie cleared his throat loudly, “if you dare to use it in front of Laura…”  
  
James let go of Robbie’s hand, quickly raising his own, “I solemnly swear I will be discretion itself, rest assured, S—“  
  
“…You can stay the night.  With me.  In my bed.  No funny business, mind; just... cuddles.”  
  
“Uh.”  James stared, not quite believing what he had just heard, certain he was mistaken.   
  
Robbie was beetroot red.  “Was that too much?”  James shook his head, his colour slowly returning; Robbie chuckled nervously.  “I think I can see your tonsils.

 

*****

 

James managed to slip in a ‘Robbie’ in the station kitchen when they took a break for coffee, one at the café while getting lunch, and another as they walked past the front desk, much to Robbie’s surprise, but ‘Sir’ dropped more naturally and easily from his mouth.  Yet, Robbie observed, it was rarely unconsciously said and, even though he was trying to use ‘Robbie’, he wasn’t about to simply drop it anywhere into the conversation.  
  
Laura popped into their office shortly after they returned.  
  
“Happy New Year, you two, nice to see you survived the night.”  They returned the greeting, both on alert at her bright, breezy entrance – a little too bright.  She perched lightly on the edge of Robbie’s desk, “Are you boys busy tonight?”    
  
James’ eyes darted to Robbie and back to Laura and he desperately hoped the heat he felt in his neck and face wasn’t showing as he tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.  Laura either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it, “It was my turn to host family Christmas and I’m still trying to get through the leftovers.”  She turned her widest doe-like eyes to Robbie.  “Do say you’ll come for dinner?  Please?”  When Robbie didn’t answer immediately, she turned an appraising gaze on James, her eyes narrowing slightly.  “By the way, I don’t believe for one second either of you were sick last night – nor does Jean, but oddly enough I think she forgives you – pair of cast-iron guts, you two.”  James started to blush.  Robbie not only saw his colour rising, he realised Laura had noticed as well; she was exceptionally observant.  Robbie hurriedly answered, “What time?” and deliberately avoided looking at James.   
  
James watched through the glass until Laura had disappeared through the other door, swinging around to look pointedly at Robbie as the door closed.  “We could be at Laura’s all night.”  
  
“Well, that’ll give you more time then, won’t it?”  James eyes widened at Robbie’s implication.  “Besides,” Robbie continued, “Never known you to pass up food, lad, even if you do look like you never eat.  Bloody hollow legs you.”

 

*****

 

James dropped Robbie at home, and raced to his flat to shower and change.  He also packed a bag and clean suit, just in case – why waste more time later?  He arrived back at Robbie’s with two bottles of wine and twenty minutes to spare.  
  
“You’re keen all of a sudden.”  Robbie looked at him curiously.  
  
“Sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”  James fidgeted as he waited for Robbie to gather up his coat, wallet, phone and keys.   
  
“You realise,” Robbie turned to James, “We could be called away to a scene at anytime.”  He bit back a laugh at James’ scowl and got in the car.  
  
“Don’t spoil my evening, _Sir._ ”

 

*****

 

Laura had prepared enough food for six.  Robbie was dismayed to discover it was because there _would_ be six for dinner, as Laura had invited Peterson, Jean and Mr Innocent – well, perhaps there would only be five at the table.  James _might_ have been willing to use his name in front of Laura, but Peterson?  Never.   
  
As she poured three glasses of wine, Laura studied their faces – James stoic, Robbie seemed... disappointed.  “Cheery pair you are.  Here.”  She handed them a glass each.  “The others should be here shortly, and we’ll eat as soon as they arrive.”  _No change in either._   “So, Robbie, are you the lucky one being chauffeured home tonight?  Or have you decided to take James’ keys from him, let him ‘cut loose’ for a change?”  The slamming of car doors distracted her, Robbie’s shoulders sank a little further, and James’ eyes snapped open, the hint of a smile appearing.  
  
James raised his glass with a flourish, “I’m the designated driver this evening, Doctor Hobson, _this_ shall be my first and last alcoholic beverage for the night; someone has to ensure Robbie gets home safely.  Cheers!”  He drained half the glass.  
  
Laura watched them carefully, her gaze shifting slowly from James to Robbie, weighing the evidence before her; Robbie’s look of wonder, as opposed to the expected exasperation, was of particular interest.  “Of course,” she said slowly, “Nice to see you’re getting your priorities straight.”  The insistent ringing of the doorbell, heralding the arrival of her remaining guests, stopped Laura wheedling any more useful tidbits out of either Robbie or James.   
  
The night had great potential to be a disaster; Robbie and James were unusually awkward,  and Laura was distracted watching them, catching Jean’s attention.  Sitting diagonally opposite each other, Chris (Mr Innocent had another ‘engagement’) and Peterson saved the night as their banter bounced back and forth, gradually drawing everyone in.  James spouted Keats and Donne and garnered looks of disbelief for his complete lack of interest in football, while Robbie said very little; James had done what he dared him to do, and tonight would share his bed.  He was thrilled and a little terrified.

 

*****

 

Laura didn’t hide her frustration when, shortly after nine, James insisted he and Robbie were leaving.  
  
“Doctor’s orders for Inspector Lewis; I’m sure you understand, Doctor Hobson.”  James stated.  Laura’s expression said she understood she was being foiled.  James was more than aware that the next few days would require a lot of luck and all his dodging skills if he was to avoid being cornered alone by a determined Laura.

 

*****

 

They didn’t speak on the drive home.  James’ eyes never left the road, not even for the briefest of glances.  Robbie knew because he watched him out of the corner of his eye all the way.  The stillness was complete when James stopped the car..   
  
“We don’t have to do this, I didn’t...” James whispered, “I should...”  
  
“I want to.”  Robbie covered James’ hand on the steering wheel.  “Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think I could go through with it.  Come inside.  Please.”  He smiled encouragingly and got out of the car without waiting for a response  
  
James hesitated briefly before following.  He stopped with a hand on the boot.  
  
Sensing the lack of movement behind him, Robbie turned toward the car.  A heartbeat.  A smile that made James’ knees wobble.  Robbie took a step towards James, “I might have a spare toothbrush, but if you’ve got your own, bring it in.”   
  
As he jogged to the door behind Robbie, hold-all and suitbag clutched in his fist, James sent up a silent prayer of thanks.  
  
Robbie took James’ bags, placing the hold-all it just inside his bedroom door and hanging up his suit.  He looked at James, anticipation and uncertainty competing in his eyes.  “What now?”  He voice held a note of trepidation and James instinctively pulled him into a hug, stroking his back.  “Cuddles, you said, and nothing you don’t want.”   They stood awhile, until the trembling had slowed, James acutely aware of Robbie’s warmth, of his face buried against his neck; the moment ended with a jaw-breaking yawn from Robbie.  
  
“Mmm, sleep for you, I think,” James murmured.  He gently pushed Robbie toward the bedroom and, retrieving his bag, headed for the bathroom.

 

James washed, changed, and cleaned his teeth, and was perched against the sink trying to determine the best time to go back to the bedroom.  He fretted that his t-shirt and trackpants were inappropriate, that maybe he should have grabbed the rarely worn pyjamas instead.  Now was not the time to let Robbie know he usually slept naked.  _Oh God, what if?  No, not Robbie, not naked.  Surely not?_   He was on the edge of a minor panic attack when Robbie knocked on the door.  “You done in there yet?  I’m knackered and I need to pee and everything else.”  
  
James took a deep breath and opened the door more calmly than he felt.  The relief on his face was mirrored in Robbie’s and they brushed past each other as they swapped places, chest to chest.  James allowed his fingers to trail along Robbie’s pyjama sleeve; solid blue flannelette, not dissimilar to the single pair James owned.  
  
Robbie entered the bedroom a few minutes later to find James staring at the bed.  “This side’s mine, lad.”  He watched as James moved around to the other side of the bed, turned off the light, slid under the duvet and waited for James.  When nothing happened, Robbie rolled onto his other side and looked at the silhouette, standing beside the bed.  “Are you going to stay there all night?  The point of this was to be together.”  The kindness in his voice prompted James to move and, oddly, reminded him that Robbie had given him control.  As he climbed into bed, Robbie reached out and took his hand.  
  
James took a centring breath and lay on his side, close to Robbie but not quite touching, and laid a hand against Robbie’s chest.  He felt the sharp rise and the slow lowering as Robbie breathed steadily, and the rhythmic thud of Robbie’s heart beneath his hand as its beating gradually slowed.  Feeling more assured, James inched closer, his chest now pressed against Robbie’s arm.  Robbie rolled onto his side, his back now to James, pulling James’ arm across his chest, tucked under his own.  The motion pulled James closer, his chest pressed to Robbie’s back.  It wasn’t the most comfortable position and he knew his other arm would most likely fall asleep; but it was a ‘safe’ position, and he could put up with the discomfort to be this close, with full permission to touch.  
  
“I can’t quite believe you did it.”  Robbie murmured sleepily.  
  
James groaned, resting his forehead against the back of Robbie’s head.  “You’re not alone there.  I never thought it would be so bloody hard to _not_ call you ‘Sir’.  I never did manage the eight; barely half in fact.  Sorry.”  
  
“You said the one that mattered most though, the one that took the most...commitment.”  Robbie’s last words were almost swallowed by another exhausting yawn.  
  
“Sleep, Sir, I promise to still be here in the morning.”  James very softly pressed his lips to Robbie’s neck in a barely-there kiss, “Goodnight, Robbie.”  
  
When he first allowed himself to believe he could be in this position, James knew that patience would be needed, nothing beyond where they’d already been.  After last night, he was grateful that Robbie didn’t seem to want to rush anything.  There would be plenty of time for them in the future; he was certain of that now.  
  
Even if this is all it will be (though he hopes it’s not), Robbie’s aware it’s the happiest he’s been in years and it really doesn’t matter that it’s a man.  It’s James.  He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Lyn – to anyone, really – and as he drifted off to sleep, he realised he didn’t really care.


	9. Wednesday, 2 January

Robbie woke, the warmth against his back momentarily confusing him, until the soft snoring reached through the fog.  James.  In his bed.  Robbie reached carefully behind him – a hip bone and lean muscle, all wrapped up in fabric worn soft with wear.  James was pressed up against him, back to back, from shoulder to hip, warm, solid and reassuring.  The buzzing of the alarm turned the snores to a soft grunt and he felt James push back against him as he tried to roll onto his back.  Alarmed by the obstacle in his way, James sat bolt upright which caused Robbie to drop onto his back now the obstruction was gone.  James stared down at Robbie, wide-eyed, slowly relaxing as his brain caught up.   
  
“Good morning, Robbie.”  He smiled down at Robbie and stretched over to stop the alarm, his shoulder pressed against Robbie’s shoulder and his chest mere inches from Robbie’s face.  The soft folds of James’ t-shirt brushed Robbie’s nose and, quietly and deeply, Robbie inhaled the smell of him.  James snuggled back down under the duvet and wrapped an arm and leg across Robbie, pulling himself against his side.  With his head resting against Robbie’s shoulder – comfortable and safe – he closed his eyes again.  
  
“This is what I’d like to do today,” James murmured.  
  
“Stay in bed?”   
  
James pushed himself up on his elbow and smiled at Robbie’s frown.  “To mark the ninth day...”  
  
Robbie snorted, “Are you still following through with the whole twelve days, then?  Even now?”  He indicated them in bed.  Together.  
  
“As I said the other night, _Sir_ ,” James spoke patiently, his smile never wavering, “There were six days of Christmas left, so yes, I am following through with them.”  He cleared his throat.  “ Therefore, to mark the ninth day, I would like to make full body contact with you – or as full as reasonably possible – nine times, or more, today.”  
  
Robbie gave him an appraising stare, “And how’re you going to manage that then?”  
  
“What?  Not ‘don’t be silly’?  Not ‘give over’.”  James blinked in surprise, “You’re okay with me wanting to…”  He pressed himself into Robbie, gently pushing his knee between Robbie’s and grinning at the sharp intake of air.  
  
Robbie lightly stroked James’ cheek with one finger, “I want to see how you get away with it nine times without sending the station into a gossip meltdown.”  
  
“Are you daring me?”   
  
“I think I am.”

 

*****

 

James offered to make breakfast while Robbie readied for work  
  
“No need to bother, lad, tea and toast is fine.”   
  
James protested softly, “But I’d like to.”  
  
“James,” Robbie began patiently, “I didn’t exactly do a big shop the other day – you were there, remember?  There’s not much you could make beyond toast.”  
  
James thought for a moment, “Then dinner, my place.  And you could stay.  If you wanted to, that is.”  
  
Robbie smiled gently, “I’d like that.”

*****

 

Despite Robbie’s misgivings, James managed to scrape together enough ingredients to make a reasonable sized omelette to share.  Robbie playfully accused him of having harassed the neighbours and James responded by telling him – in great and deliberately annoying detail – where he’d found each item and how he’d prepared it.  
  
“If dinner’s as big a production we’ll be eating it at dawn,” Robbie exclaimed, the lightness in his voice taking any sting out of the words.  “And if it tastes this good, it’ll be worth the wait.”  
  
James ducked his head at the praise and began to gather up the dishes.  
  
“Leave those, James, I’ll get them later.”  
  
James leant back against the sink.  “If you’re coming back to mine tonight, it may be a while before you ‘get them’.”  
  
With a shake of his head, Robbie left him to it as he finished getting dressed.  
  
House tidied and ties straightened, they headed off.  James stepped up behind Robbie as they went for the door.  Leaning into him, chest to back, hip to hip, James reached around and unlocked the door while Robbie stood his ground.  As he started pull it open, James touched his lips to Robbie’s ear and whispered “One”.  Robbie shivered; he suspected it was going to be a long, and possibly very frustrating, day.

 

*****

 

It was shaping up to be a slow day and by nine they were headed to the kitchen.  James, who’d gone to the loo on the way, wandered in on Robbie talking to Gurdip, and eyeing off Gurdip’s cake; they were blocking the coffee maker.  Mug in hand, James once again reached around Robbie, pressing as much of himself against Robbie’s back as possible; he gripped Robbie’s shoulder with his free hand and thrust his mug towards Gurdip  
  
“One of those mornings, is it Sergeant?” Gurdip grinned broadly, “Must be if you want this stuff that badly.”  He held out the pot and filled James’ cup.  
  
“Thank you, Gurdip.  It’s my _second_ for the day but I don’t think you can ever have too much.” James chirped.  
  
Gurdip raised his brow at James’ unusually bright tone and turned to Robbie, bemused, ”You’re going to have your hands full with him today, Inspector.  Might want to think about limiting him.”   
  
Robbie scowled at the grinning James as he answered Gurdip, “I’ll cut him off at nine unless he gets _out of hand_ before then.”  
  
Robbie thumbed over his shoulder, ”Office, Sergeant, back to it.”

 

*****

 

Robbie closed the door behind them.  “You’re a cheeky sod.”  
  
James attempted to look innocent, “Gurdip believed I was desperate for coffee – everyone knows how much I like my coffee.”  
  
Robbie was finding it difficult to stay stern with James and shook his head with a soft laugh. “Not from the office pot you don’t.”  
  
James looked into his cup and screwed up his nose.  “I also know where Gurdip gets his cakes.  Join me?”

 

*****

 

The bakery was busy, not crushingly so, just enough that James, ostensibly attempting to make a choice, could squeeze behind Robbie to get to the far end of the display without drawing undue attention.  He placed his hands on Robbie’s shoulders as he pushed past, resisting the urge to grab Robbie’s waist or hips instead.  When he did it a second time, in a fair show of indecision, Robbie gave him a small slap on the hip in passing.  James flashed a cheeky grin; seconds later his face was an impassive mask, the sharp change in demeanour puzzling Robbie.  They ordered and James stood calmly, the model of an exemplary bagman.  
  
Heading back, Robbie mused over James’ sudden change in mood. “That’s you managed four and it’s not even midday.”  James sipped his coffee silently.  Robbie tried again.  “Why the change in mood – I thought you’d be dead pleased with yourself?”  
  
“The good Dr Hobson was at the window,” James spoke in a low rumble, “And judging by her face she saw the lot – including your ‘love tap’.”  
  
“Ah – wait, my what?”  Robbie stammered, relieved when James snorted a laugh.  “Oh, well, no doubt you’re already in her sights for an interrogation; it’s just given her something to add to the list.”  
  
“It’s all right for you.  There are days when she terrifies me.”  He frowned, vexed.  
  
“What, big lad like you?  Give over.  Besides, it was your idea.”  Robbie stopped in his tracks and James walked into him, his free hand grabbing at Robbie’s waist to balance himself.  
  
James grinned as Robbie chuckled at him.  “Careful, _Robbie_ , I could claim that as five,” and he pressed himself along Robbie’s back as he moved from left to right behind him.  
  
“I’ll give you that one, then.”  Robbie nudged him with an elbow, “Four to go.”  
  
James snorted, “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”  
  
Robbie’s answer was a smile.

 

*****

 

James, having stopped outside for a cigarette, returned to the office.  Robbie glanced up as he went to sit down.  
  
“You been leaning on the wall near the building works again, Sergeant?  Your back and arse are covered in brick dust.”  He shook his head with a laugh as James pivoted and twisted in his attempt to wipe off his clothes.  
  
“Oh. c’m’ere,” Robbie huffed, starting to rise.  James, surprisingly, did as he was told without a word or pulling a face.  As he turned his back to Robbie, he misjudged his position and hit the edge of the desk.  Unbalanced, he fell hard against Robbie who toppled back into his chair.  Unable to stop his momentum, James landed squarely in Robbie’s lap, the extra weight sending the chair, and its occupants, crashing into the filing cabinet; in the outer office, six heads swivelled as one and at least one person laughed loudly.  Embarrassed, James leapt up, apologising profusely.  Robbie gave out a loud groan.   
  
“Oh, God, Sir, are you okay, did I hurt you.”  James unconsciously crouched beside the chair.  
  
“No, I’m fine,” Robbie moaned, “Over there.  By the outer door.”  
  
James looked up, horrified.  Innocent was staring with raised eyebrows.  She shook her head in disbelief and walked out.  James slumped down in his chair.  “Bet you a fiver she’s gone to call Dr Hobson.”   
  
“All bets are off on that one.  You in my lap – that _has_ to count as full body.”.  
  
James nodded and planted his head on his desk with a groan.  Robbie heard a muffled “Six, what a waste.”

 

*****

 

The beginning of the month meant completing the monthly reports.  And it was the same battle every time.  
  
“James,” Robbie groused, “Can you get this damn spreadsheet to do what it’s supposed to.”   
  
Normally, Robbie would roll his chair out of the way, leaving James to hunch over the keyboard and mouse, unimpeded.  Today he didn’t.  James raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked at the desk, the chair, and the space behind Robbie.  “I’m not moving, lad, you’ll have to work around me.”   
  
James huffed softly.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were encouraging me.”   
  
“Well then, you don’t know better do you?”  Robbie held his gaze.  
  
“Why, Robert Lewis, I do believe you’re leading me astray – and in the workplace.”   
  
Robbie smiled at him, and James again had to fight an impulse to kiss him – this wasn’t the time, and definitely not the place.  James stood behind Robbie, and leant into him, one arm braced against the desk, brushing Robbie’s, the other on the mouse.  He bent low, his chin brushing Robbie’s ear.  As he manoeuvred around the screen, he gave Robbie keyboard instructions using a low, soft tone.  The sight of gooseflesh rising on Robbie’s forearms, bare where he’d rolled his sleeves up, gave James a small thrill of pleasure.   “Two to go,” he whispered in Robbie’s ear just before he straightened.  He glanced into the outer office; no-one was paying any attention.

 

*****

 

The call came late in the afternoon; another body by the Cherwell, and it wasn’t a student this time.  That he might avoid having to deal with one of the colleges cheered Robbie a little; that that made it more likely to be murder over suicide gave him mixed feelings.  Tired, they drove out in silence.

 

*****

 

Even after all these years, Robbie could always appreciate a well-coordinated crime scene examination.  They’d said goodbye to Laura, who was escorting the body back to the morgue, and Robbie had been directed to some unusual shoe prints.  He crouched down as the SOCO explained what he’d seen and James crouched beside him.   
  
Laura turned back to look over the scene one last time and her eyes were drawn to the Dynamic Duo.  They were leaning into each other, shoulder to hip and, as she watched, James turned to speak to Robbie, his mouth mere inches from Robbie’s ear.  She heard Robbie laugh, and reflected on how easily and frequently James drew laughter from his Governor in recent times.  From her vantage point she couldn’t see James’ eyes but she imagined them half-closed; their posture was so intimate she felt like a voyeur.  James stood, pushing himself up off Robbie’s knee, and held out a hand for Robbie to pull himself up.  Their lack of personal space was the norm; the hands, the touching, the very easy familiarity – that was different.  She sighed, turning away before they saw her.  If she was completely honest, it wasn’t entirely unexpected; Robbie and James were closer than any other team she’d worked with.  Hell, they were closer than many couples she knew.

 

*****

 

They walked in the door a little after eight with takeaway, a four-pack and James apologising again for now not having time or energy to actually _cook_ a meal.   
  
“It’s not your fault; neither of us was really anticipating getting called out that late.  Anyway, bugger the meal; you never got to ‘nine’, though squeezing one in at a crime scene – very sneaky.  How about a decent hug instead to make up for all your teasing during the day.”   
  
“Teasing?”  James’ attempt to be indignant failed  
  
Robbie stood in the kitchen and waited.  James wrapped himself around Robbie’s shoulders, pulling him to his chest and sinking his face into Robbie’s neck; he gently stroked his back.  Robbie held onto James and felt the tension of the late afternoon flowing out of him.  A loud rumbling, first from James then Robbie’s stomach, made them both laugh and reluctantly break their embrace.  They ate in a peaceful silence as neither was in the mood for small talk; Robbie wasn’t quite sure what he’d say and James was afraid he would say too much.   
  
With the kitchen tidy, they argued good naturedly about what to watch on telly until James yawned suddenly and loudly.  Startled, Robbie hesitantly suggested going to bed early, “even if we just lie there and talk for a while.”   
  
Robbie showered first, as James raced about changing the sheets and tidying his bedroom; he wanted everything to be right.  As he slipped into the bathroom after Robbie, he called out, “Make yourself comfy – I don’t have a side, so whichever suits you...  I won’t be long.”   
  
James really didn’t have a side – he generally hogged the middle – and Robbie took the same side of the bed as the night before, as James assumed he would.  It was less awkward tonight for both of them and Robbie immediately rolled onto his side, letting James spoon him.   
  
The role reversal felt strange to Robbie; he’d always held Val.  The only time he remembered her holding him was when his father had died.  However, he liked it, he was soaking up the feeling of being protected, possessed.  He felt James’ lips lightly brush his neck – he assumed it was his lips – followed by a murmured “good night”; _so much for talking_ he smiled to himself.  As he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off in James’ embrace, he fleetingly wondered what it would be like to kiss him.  _He’s so bloody tall._


	10. Thursday, 3 January

 

James woke up refreshed, still wrapped around Robbie, and undecided on how to proceed; he knew what he wanted and now found himself wavering on how fast to move ahead.  He was worried Robbie would either be happy to stay where they were – which James wasn’t – and might baulk at taking things any further, or that he would want to leap ahead, which James was certain Robbie wasn’t quite ready for.  He felt thick for not being able to find a way to find out exactly what was going on inside Robbie’s head.    
  
Robbie sensed James waking behind him.  He’d been awake for a while, reflecting on the past few days, wondering where James would take them today.  Despite some moments of anxiety, he was glorying in this journey of discovery, and in James, and was eager to follow wherever James led, at whatever pace James set.  Had he known what was going through James’ mind they may have had an easier morning.   As it was, their breakfast discussion covered a range of topics, except what was happening between them.  The drive to work was…uncomfortable.  
  
Walking through the car park, James’ attention was drawn to Gurdip, who was leaning into a car, kissing the driver goodbye rather enthusiastically.  He tapped Robbie on the shoulder and pointed them out, his curiosity piqued.    
  
“Well he’s kept that quiet, hasn’t he,” Robbie whispered.    
  
“Not anymore,” smirked James, indicating the small but significant audience they had garnered.

 

*****

 

Robbie was baffled when James pulled their office door wide and fully opened all the blinds.  
  
Spinning on his heel to face Robbie, who was already seated behind his desk, James asked, “What’s your opinion of PDAs, Sir. “    
  
“Eh?”  Robbie frowned. “peedee what?“  
  
“PDAs – public displays of affection, Sir.  Like Gurdip’s.” James stated calmly.  
  
“Oh.  Right.  That.”  Robbie puffed out his cheeks.  ”Never really thought about it properly.  What Gurdip did was okay, I...”  Like a slap, it dawned on Robbie why James was asking.  “Oh, no, not that.  I don’t know if I’m...  I mean, all that touching and leaning and such, that was nice, more than nice,” Robbie grew redder with each word, “But you’re talking more than that, aren’t you?”  He stopped, slackjawed.  
  
James was staring at him patiently.  He crossed the office and sat on Robbie’s desk, his leg brushing Robbie’s arm.  “It wouldn’t be vastly different to yesterday, for the most part.”  He bent forward.  “Do you trust me?”  Robbie gasped at the intent in James’ eyes and all he could do was nod.  James smiled.  “Well?”  
  
“Is that going to be me tenth ‘gift’, then?  You finding ways to…?”  Robbie was floundering and flushed.   
  
James smiled fondly, “I’d like to, but only if you’re willing; having you jump in the air every time I touched you _would_ take some of the illicit pleasure out of it, though you did rather well yesterday.”  He studied Robbie carefully.  “Do you trust me?”  
  
Just when James was ready to suggest something else, Robbie whispered “Yes.  Yes, I trust you and…” he rubbed his face briskly and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, “And I’m willing, though, mind you, I might still jump.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Sir, especially since you’ll be expecting it.  And I will aim to be as discrete as possible, I can promise you that.”  As he spoke, James picked up one of Robbie’s hands, held it between his own on his knee, lightly stroking the back with his thumb, then the wrist, before gently massaging his hand and forearm.  He glanced over his shoulder, reminding Robbie they were fully exposed should anyone look their way, “One.  See, that wasn’t so bad.”

*****

 

Having sorted through the evidence from yesterday’s body, James followed Robbie to the kitchen, where his Governor poured out two coffees.  He passed one to James, who captured the mug with one hand and Robbie’s hand with the other.  James dragged his fingertips across Robbie’s palm and down the length of his fingers.  Robbie shivered and his eyes flared a warning, as DC Hooper was standing right behind them.  James waggled his eyebrows, and smiled cheekily; he was perfectly aware of Hooper.  He winked and mouthed ‘two’, turned and calmly walked off with his coffee.  Robbie followed a few minutes later, his coffee forgotten on the table.

 

*****

 

The next of kin for their body by the river had been identified and located which meant interviewing family members.  On the drive out, Robbie was reviewing what little information they had, trying to determine the best approach, when he let out a yelp of surprise; James had slipped his hand across Robbie’s thigh, a bit above the knee.  James snatched his hand back and Robbie exclaimed, “Hands on the road and eyes on the wheel, Sergeant.”  
  
James laughed out loud, “I think you mean...”  
  
“I know what I meant,” Robbie was in full flight, “And, no, you can’t have a penalty pee-whatsit.  That was your third.”  He shook his head, obviously confused, “What’s the big idea though; a moving car’s not exactly ‘public’?”    
  
James glanced across quickly with a decidedly wicked grin.  “Trucks, buses and higher vehicles, Sir, all with a bird’s eye view of the front seat.  Would you care to drive back, Sir?”  Robbie didn’t answer him, merely pointed through the windscreen, “Kidlington, James, preferably today.”

 

*****

 

It was a depressing home – no decorations, not even a single card on the mantelpiece.  Robbie had chosen to sit in a single chair, to prevent James doing anything untoward; he now regretted not having James’ warmth beside him in this cold place.  The interviews were unenlightening for the most part.  As they were leaving, the mother called them back to thank them for their efforts.  James, recognising Robbie’s empathy for the tiny woman, discretely laid his hand in the small of Robbie’s back and briefly massaged in small, hopefully comforting, circles.  He felt Robbie push back slightly, grateful for the contact.  Robbie croaked a quiet ‘thank you’ when they reached the car and James rethought his decision to offer him the keys. 

 

*****

 

“Doctor Hobson’s been looking for you, Sirs.”  Robbie acknowledged the desk sergeant and he and James headed for the morgue.  Robbie’s mood had improved slightly, and he’d gently chastised James for being affectionate in front of potential suspects.  James had taken the scolding with good humour, “At least I refrained from kissing your furrowed brow, Sir.”  Robbie gave him a warning look as they entered the morgue.  
  
“A suicide, gentlemen, without a doubt.  Drowned, with massive amounts of morphine in his system – the result of ingesting copious amounts of codeine; there were still some partially digested tablets in the stomach contents.”  Laura didn’t waste any time.  
  
“But, the bruising around the neck,” Robbie stammered.  He didn’t really want a murder right now but suicides around Christmas saddened him more than at any other time of the year.  
  
“Post-mortem.  Made by river weeds caught around the neck, believe it or not – uncommon, but I’ve seen it before.”  
  
James clapped his hand firmly on Robbie’s shoulder, causing him to jump, _not in front of Laura you idiot!_ he hissed in his head.    
  
“Never mind, Sir,” James intoned gravely, “I’m certain the criminal classes will bring you a real victim in due course.  Though I suppose it does mean we have to go back out to Kidlington.  Today.”    
  
Instead of lifting his hand off Robbie’s shoulder, James waited until Laura turned away to return the file and slid his hand across and down Robbie’s shoulder blade and spine.  The lightness of James’ touch tickled, causing Robbie to squirm.  Laura caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, turned and stared at the odd expression on Robbie’s face and at James, who still had his hand against Robbie’s back.  James made a show of brushing the back of Robbie’s jacket and muttered about needing to give his car a good vacuum, his faced expressionless.  Robbie shrugged.  “He’s not as tidy as he likes people to think he is.”  Laura wasn’t convinced and they both knew it.    
  
“Right,” Robbie coughed, “Erm, thanks Laura, ah, we’d best get back out to Kidlington then.”  As the door was closing behind them, Laura was puzzled to hear James whisper “five” and giggle.  The slap and the “ow” that followed made her smile.

 

*****

 

James suggested taking lunch before revisiting the family, and asked if they could go to the café instead of bringing sandwiches back to their desks.  Robbie gave him an appraising look before agreeing and – not for the first time, nor he suspected the last – wondered what he was letting himself in for.    
  
Despite the lunch time rush, James managed to secure a corner table.  He sat with his back to the wall, where he could see the room, door and windows.  He didn’t really feel like a repeat of the bakery and Laura.  Robbie surveyed the café and James’ positioning, before sitting opposite James, where his body would block the table between them from any casual glances.  James gave him a grateful smile and they sat quietly as they waited for their meal.     
  
When the waitress walked way, James pushed his leg between Robbie’s and pressed against his calf.  Robbie studied him carefully, stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles, effectively trapping James’ calf; he found himself grinning madly at the James’ look of surprise.    
  
While they ate James twice found reasons to touch Robbie’s hands and arms, and Robbie was astonished by the realisation that he wasn’t just enjoying himself – he wanted more.  Heading back to the office in a considerably brighter mood, and ready to face the family in Kidlington again, Robbie leant into James, shoulder to shoulder, “So, was all that ‘six’ or were ‘seven’ and ’eight’ in there as well.”  
  
James grinned.  “That was ‘six’ and ‘six’ alone Sir.  I was just making up for my lost ones.”  He dodged the slap aimed at his ear.

 

*****

 

“Well, that went as well as could be expected.”  Robbie slumped against the car next to James, as the blame argument raged inside the Kidlington house.  A police liaison officer and social worker were with the family, and Robbie and James had been firmly and politely pushed out the door.    
  
“Nothing more to be done here, Sir; I’m ready to knock off for a pint after that.”  His head lolled to one side as he looked at Robbie, “How slowly do you think we could drive back to the station and not get pulled over for obstructing traffic?”    
  
“What!?”   
  
James stared at the fleeing clouds, “If we don’t get back ‘til after five, we can knock off without going back in.  Can’t we?”  His voice rose a notch on the question.  
  
Robbie snorted and patted James’ trouser pocket, “Give us the keys, lad, I’ll drive back.  Old man like me’s allowed to crawl along.”  James fumbled the keys, almost dropping them in his haste to hand them over.   
  
Robbie turned out of the street and James gingerly laid his hand on Robbie’s knee, relaxing when he didn’t jump or protest.  James, however, did jump when Robbie squeezed his hand in between changing gears, giving him a smile that once again warmed James to his toes.  True to his word, Robbie took the longest plausible route back, and kept just below the speed limit, while James gradually slipped his hand further up Robbie’s thigh.  With each increment James held his breath, expecting Robbie to protest, growing bolder with each noise of approval, until his fingers were brushing Robbie’s groin.  James only removed his hand when they reached the station, and stared, open-mouthed, at Robbie’s disappointed sigh.

 

*****

 

They left the car at the station and walked to the pub.  The evening was crisp and clear, just right for clearing tired, fogged heads.  Once inside, they ordered and James headed into the garden for a cigarette while they waited.  Robbie wandered out a few minutes later and located James, in the shadows, leaning against a wall – as usual.  “Perfectly good benches out here and you have to park yourself against a cold, damp wall.  How you don’t catch your death of cold is beyond me.”  
  
“I’d rather cold shoulders than a cold arse.”  James blew the smoke up and away, and, as Robbie settled against the wall next to him, stubbed out his cigarette.  
  
“Fair enough,” Robbie huffed and looked around at the others scattered around the garden.  There were a couple of other smokers, and a young couple far too absorbed in each other to notice much.  Robbie shifted closer to James, pressing their shoulders together.  In the security of the darkness, Robbie took hold of James’ hand, interlacing their fingers, and used his thumb to stroke wherever it could reach.    
  
James, initially startled, turned his body towards Robbie, screening him from the garden.  He curled his fingers around Robbie’s warm fist and sought out his eyes.  Holding his gaze, James raised Robbie’s hand to his lips and lightly kissed his knuckles, then the back of his hand.  Robbie, unable and unwilling to look away, was certain James could hear the pounding of his heart.  James smiled shyly, “We’d best get inside before someone pinches our dinner,” and he tugged Robbie by the hand towards the door, only releasing him as he stepped into the warmth.

*****

 

Back inside the pub, Robbie claimed a booth while James collected their meals and got the first round in.  It only took him a few minutes but it was enough time for Robbie to regain his composure, slowing his heart and breathing.  James watched him closely across the table as they ate, his own mood wavering between thrilled and terrified.  The booths were compact and their knees were pressed together under the table.  They had their meal in silence, letting the chatter and noise in the pub fill the void.  
  
With the meal over, Robbie disappeared to the loo, returning with a second round – a pint for himself, and tonic on the rocks for James who still had to drive home.  Instead of returning to his place opposite, he sat next to James, nudging him into the corner with his bum.  He pressed his hip and shoulder firmly against James who, instead of moving away (and Robbie had left plenty of room for him to do so), sat firm.  
  
James gasped as Robbie’s hand slipped over his thigh, halfway between knee and groin and he made himself look straight ahead.  With his free hand, Robbie picked up his pint and took a long drink as he slid his hand further up James’ leg.  He didn’t get quite as high as James had, as James’ warm fingers clasped his wrist, stopping his ascent.  James snorted as Robbie pouted at him, the moue becoming an ‘oh’ as James mirrored his position under the table.  Neither spoke and they finished their drinks without changing position.  “ _Nine_ o’clock,” James whispered, not that there was anyone to overhear or understand, “Probably time to make tracks for home; after all, it _is_ a ‘school night’ for us.”  Robbie nodded, though he was a little reluctant to leave this comfort zone, and shuffled out of the booth. 

 

*****

 

Hurrying along the footpath towards the station and James’ car, Robbie felt strong fingers slip into the crook of his elbow, and he was yanked backwards into a darkened doorway.   
  
"James, what the bloody..."    
  
One cool finger, smelling of hand wash and faint cigarettes, was pressed to his lips.  As his eyes adjusted he was able to make out James’ features.  Shadows played games with his mind and James looked almost...predatory.  A fingertip traced his bottom lip, sending a shiver through him, making him gasp.  The shadows shifted as James smiled and his voice was husky, “I’ve been thinking about this all day – hell, the past couple of days – but the car is _too_ public, even for me, and I don’t want to wait any longer.”  Robbie's brain began to catch up as James' hand cradled the back of his neck and drew Robbie towards him.    
  
Robbie’s eyes closed and his lips parted slightly as James kissed him, the lightest touch of lips at first, barely there, and the smell of James.  Robbie kept his eyes shut tight, afraid to move and James moved in further.  Robbie kissed him back and felt fingers tighten in his hair and a hand clutch at his belt.  He felt a tremor ripple through James and heard a soft moan; only later did he realise it came from himself.  As his initial shock wore off, Robbie remembered he too had hands and anchored himself to James’ hips as James moved his lips along Robbie’s jaw line, down his throat, and back to his mouth, his tongue flicking lightly over Robbie’s skin and bottom lip.  As Robbie opened his mouth more, inviting James in, James gently pulled away; Robbie gave a little whimper.    
  
They stared at each other in the dark, hearts racing, breathing rapid.  “Can I have another, just to be really sure?”  Robbie panted.  
  
James shook his head, “Not today, that’s more than enough to begin with.  I wasn’t sure we’d get...  I’m not sure what I’d do if we...”  Robbie shivered at James’ implication and James chuckled softly at the look of wonder on his Governor’s face – well and truly more than his Governor now.  James rested his forehead against Robbie’s, “Let’s get you home, before we both catch cold.  I’m not explaining that to anyone.”  He took Robbie by the elbow and guided him back to the street and toward his car.

 

*****

 

“Stay tonight, pet?”  Robbie asked James, eyes wide with longing.  
  
“I can’t,” James stammered, caught off-guard by ‘pet’, “I’m not sure I’d trust myself and...  This is too important to ruin by rushing.”  The disappointment in Robbie’s face slowly gave way to acceptance and he nodded.  James cupped Robbie’s cheek and lifted his face to look at him, “Tomorrow, more kisses tomorrow.  I promise.”  Robbie leant forward and quickly and softly kissed James, “Yes, please”; before exiting the car and walking to his door without a backwards glance.  



	11. Friday, 4 January

 

James hesitated, he’d never used his spare key and couldn’t fight the feeling he’d be trespassing.  After going to bed in a near-euphoric state, he’d woken at four in a cold sweat, with every possible worst-case scenario rushing through his head.  Unable to get back to sleep, he’d curled up in the couch with a cup of tea and worked backwards through the past week.  By six he was calm, confident of Robbie’s feelings for him, and by seven he’d been standing outside Robbie’s flat for ten minutes, unable to stay away any longer, unsure whether to knock or let himself in. He took a decisive breath – and the door opened.   
  
“I saw your car pull up – I’ve been awake for ages. When you didn’t knock, I thought... I wondered... I was coming to see...”  
  
In one movement, James stepped into the flat, captured Robbie’s face between his palms and sprinkled small, soothing kisses over his brow, cheeks and finally lips, chasing away the look of loss that had filled Robbie’s eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry, I never meant... I’m here.”  
  
“Aye, you are, pet.”  Robbie sank into James’ embrace.  “I got meself worked up over...  You’ve been crystal clear these past days, to me at least, the most transparent you’ve ever been, but I had this voice niggling at me, telling me if something seems too good to be true it probably is and I started listening... and you are too good...”  
  
James cut him off with another kiss.  “I’ve been awake since four with the same demon.”  
  
“Fine pair we are,” Robbie smiled fondly, “Coffee?  It’s extra strong.”

 

*****

 

It was an odd breakfast; James toed off his shoes and curled next to Robbie on the couch, plates of toast balanced on knees.   
  
“I promised you kisses today – I take it you haven’t changed your mind?”  James looked up awkwardly from where his head rested on Robbie’s shoulder, as Robbie shook his head.  A small, pleased grin flickered across James’ face as a slight flush crept up Robbie’s neck.  All he had to do was tip his head another inch or so...  
  
“So how’re you going to do it, then?” Robbie mused, “A proper snog at some stage or... what?”  He stared at the crumbs on his plate, not daring to look anywhere else, until James snorted.  
  
“Was last night not ‘snoggy’ enough for you?”  He lightly kissed Robbie’s neck which was now scarlet.  “Sorry.”  Another kiss.  “Some stolen, some shared, some private, some ‘a little’ public.  A _proper snog_ tonight if you’re not completely satisfied.”  
  
Robbie inclined his head against James’, “Just remember we’ve both got reputations to think about; I’ll need me pension when I retire, and you – ah, well, I suppose you’ll think of something.”  
  
“Do you want to keep count then?”  James moved quickly out of the way, grinning playfully.

 

*****

 

The hardest part was keeping his hands off James, and he wondered if James was struggling too.  It wasn’t that Robbie wanted to...  at least not here with six pairs of eyes in the outer office.  It had been a long time since Val, long years and lonely nights and now here was James, sitting in front of him; had been for years.  Robbie shivered and sighed.  
  
“Are you alright, Sir?”  James walked over, perched on the edge of Robbie’s desk and looked at him intently.  
  
“Oh, no, not in here,” Robbie hissed, “Not with that lot out there.”   
  
James raised an eyebrow, “Have you ever known me to be an exhibitionist, Sir?  Intentionally, that is.”  He looked through the glass, “Of course, I could close the blinds...”  
  
Robbie shook his head slowly, cautioning James with his eyes; he knew he could stop him with one word, but didn’t – his curiosity was greater than his fear.  James repositioned himself, forming a shield against the world with his body and Robbie’s monitor.  Robbie couldn’t draw his eyes from James’ face as James picked up his hand, kissed the back, then turned his hand and tenderly kissed his palm.  Robbie gasped as James’ tongue flickered in circles against the sensitive skin, and he was astonished by the low heat that settled in his belly.  James loosened his hold so that Robbie to draw back his hand, and returned to his desk, cool and professional, sitting down to review the top file in his in-tray.  Robbie gazed unseeing at his monitor and waited for the tingling in his palm and groin to settle down.

 

*****

 

Robbie stared at the file in his hand.  He’d read the same witness statement at least three times and registered none of it.  
  
“Sir.”  
  
“ ** _Bloody hell!_** ”  James was inches from his ear.  He spun around towards a startled James, who was biting his bottom lip in an effort to not laugh; Robbie had managed to tear the file cover when he jumped and looked like a rabbit caught in headlights.  
  
“We’ve had a call, Sir, you didn’t answer your phone.”  
  
“Well I can’t answer something that didn’t ring now, can I.” Robbie snapped.  _Did it ring?  When?_  
  
James continued in a low, soothing tone, “You were – _away_ – Sir.”  Robbie blinked.  “It’s a burglary, Sir.”  When he gave Robbie the address, he paused for the obligatory roll of the eyes.  Ninety percent of the time cases involving ‘those people’ in ‘that part of town’ ended up dragging in Innocent and politics, and neither of them had much time or patience for that.  “No bodies, no Doctor Hobson.  Just us and SOCO,” he finished.  
  
The car park was empty, a more common occurrence as the number of smokers in the building diminished.  A step behind Robbie, James scanned doorways and windows for faces before swooping into Robbie’s back, wrapping one arm around his waist as he buried his face against the side of Robbie’s neck.  Robbie felt lips, tongue and teeth, and shuddered at the soft sucking sound James’ mouth made as he pulled away as quickly as he’d arrived.  
  
“Oi, watch the marks.”  Robbie whispered sharply, swiftly making his own inspection of their surroundings.  Reassured they were unseen, he turned to James, ready to chastise.  Instead, the hungry expression James wore made his cock twitch and his words flee; he had to furtively readjust himself before he got in the car.

 

*****

 

James returned to the conservatory after talking with SOCO.  “Looks like being relatively straightforward, Sir; SOCO have collected prints and blood from the broken window and the damaged display cabinets.”  Robbie made the appropriate noises and waited, James’ manner indicating there was more. “There is something in the garden you may find of interest, however.”  Robbie made his sincerest apologies to the owners – this _was_ shaping up to be one of _those_ cases – and followed James into the garden.  Footprints, blood stains, and what looked like a shirt, were all bypassed as James led him to the end of the garden and one of the widest yew trees Robbie had ever seen.  
  
“It provides perfect cover for someone watching the place,” James watched Robbie’s face as he approached, “You could hide here and not be seen by anyone unless they were to come behind the tree; this spot’s not even visible to the surrounding houses.”  It was what James didn’t say that drew Robbie closer; James didn’t need words, it was all in his eyes.  Robbie followed James behind the tree and out of sight, alternately anticipating and dreading whatever James had in mind.  James stepped into Robbie, one hand behind his neck, the other on his waist and pressed him against the broad trunk as he sought out his lips.  Robbie let himself go limp, willing to be claimed.  A low growl deep in James’ throat swiftly changed the game; Robbie clutched at James’ coat and kissed him back fiercely.  At the sound of approaching footsteps crunching through the icy grass, Robbie tried to jump away; with a deep chuckle, James pulled him in for one more kiss before letting him go.  Robbie turned his back in the direction of the noise, his attention on the high hedge behind them; James stepped up beside him, hands clasped behind his back, the epitome of the well-schooled bagman.   
  
“You’re right,” Robbie coughed harshly to cover the tremor in his voice, “It would be easy to stay concealed here for some time if dressed appropriately.  Back inside Hathaway, let’s find out who’s got easy access to this garden.  We can cross-check names against the prints.”  Robbie kept his head down as he returned to the house; it wouldn’t do for anyone here or at the station to wonder why he was grinning like an idiot at a crime scene.

 

*****

 

After establishing that a ridiculously large number of people had access to the garden – _didn’t these bloody people do_ anything _for themselves?_ – and gathering their `contact details, the morning was past.   
  
“Forensics are unlikely to have anything useful back for a couple of hours at least,” James mused as they reached the car, “Come back to mine for lunch.  The choirmaster’s wife gave me some of her best Scotch broth – be a shame to let it languish in the freezer much longer.”  Robbie searched his face for clues and James smiled indulgently, “I _am_ hungry, it _is_ good soup, and we _do_ have to get back to the office this afternoon; you should be quite safe.”  He blinked and quickly stifled a laugh, “Why, Sir,” his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “You look almost disappointed.”  
  
Robbie waved at him dismissively and got into the car before anyone else noticed his flushed face.  James rang the desk to inform them of their expected return time, and was still grinning as they pulled away from the house. 

 

*****

 

The broth _was_ excellent, and they soon finished a very large bowl each.  “There’s plenty more if you want, Sir, she was very generous – I think she likes me.”  
  
“Clearly she doesn’t know you as well as she thinks she does, or is there a dirty little secret you’re not telling me, Sergeant?” Robbie teased.  
  
James gave him his best “unimpressed schoolmaster” look, “Not my type.  More broth?”  
  
Robbie raised his fingers in a gesture of surrender, “Oh, go on then, you’ve twisted me arm,” and passed the empty bowl to James.  
  
James added more frozen soup to the pot to heat – “it’s too good for the microwave,” he’d explained – and instead of returning to his stool, he stood behind Robbie, grateful for the added height of the breakfast bar over a table, and began to gently massage his shoulders.  When Robbie’s head dropped forward with a soft grunt, James gave into temptation and bent down to kiss the back of his neck.  Carefully reaching forward with one hand, he started to loosen Robbie’s tie.  Robbie lifted his chin to give James better access and was rewarded with feathery kisses along his jaw and down to his Adam’s apple.  Nimble fingers undid the top two buttons of Robbie’s shirt, and James’ tongue traced the line of his collarbone.  An involuntary moan escaped from Robbie, and James plundered the hollow at the base of his throat, licking, kissing, nipping, sucking.  Robbie’s hand flew to the side of James’ head, “Oh, God, you’d better stop, I don’t... oh,” he breathed.  
  
Unwillingly, James stopped, resting his forehead against Robbie’s shoulder as he caught his own breath.  “I’m sorry...I hadn’t intended... you moaned... I, ah...”  
  
Robbie’s fingers glided down James’ cheek and Robbie twisted on the stool, inadvertently dislodging James who walked stiff-legged back to the simmering pot.   
  
“James?”  Robbie’s voice was light and James risked a peek.  Robbie’s fingers were tracing around his throat where James had nipped him.  “Have you left a mark?”  James looked closely, uncertainty all over his face, and nodded.  
  
“It’s just a small mark,” he stammered, “Should fade in day or so.”  His head snapped up in surprise when Robbie chuckled loudly.   
  
“You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you, lad?”   
  
“You’re not angry?”  
  
Robbie shook his head, his eyes bright, “When you said I’d be safe, I nearly said no to coming here; I can be safe at the office.”  Robbie chuckled at James’ disbelief and touched the small bruise again, “Been a long time since I had a love bite.”  
  
James was at a loss, and held out the pot.  “Soup?”

 

*****

 

James was still dazed when they returned to the office far later than intended.  Robbie’s easy acceptance of what had happened had sent his mind reeling at the possibilities it presented.  He was still miles away when his feet led him through the door and straight into Innocent, almost bowling her over.  He stopped so suddenly Robbie ran into the back of him, and there were several loud guffaws that were cut off when Innocent slammed the door.  
  
“So nice of you to deign to return today – you were expected an hour ago.  I’ve been fielding calls left and right about _your_ burglary.  You _are_ aware of how much...”  
  
“It was my fault, Ma’am.”  James butted in; neither of them was interested in the politics of the case but when Innocent got on a roll she was hard to stop.  Not hearing the tirade was worth incurring her wrath at being interrupted – and James was feeling mischievous.  “I invited Inspector Lewis to have lunch, soup, at my place and I, we, no I…I snogged him.  Naturally, we needed to sort things out before coming back.  You have my word it won’t happen again; I’ll bring the soup to work next time.”   
  
Robbie kept his eyes downcast, swinging wildly between wanting to laugh and wishing the floor would open up so they could get away.  Innocent was at a loss.  She thought she’d seen and heard it all when it came to the Dynamic Duo, and once again they’d proved her wrong.  While she floundered for the right response, James leant across and kissed the corner of Robbie’s mouth.  Robbie’s head shot around, eyes wide and biting his lip; Innocent groaned impatiently and covered her face with one hand.   
  
Robbie was the first to recover.  “Did you want us for something, Ma’am?”   
  
“No, not now, I don’t think...”  She shook her head, incapable of continuing what she had started, “Make _very_ sure that it doesn’t happen again.  _Whatever_ happened.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am”   
  
“Understood, Ma’am.”  
  
James closed the door very quietly after she left, glee bursting all over his face.   
  
“See specifically ‘what’ doesn’t happen again, Sir?”  He winked at Robbie.  “And there were lips, and there was skin – counting first thing this morning, that’s six, I believe.  One of us has to keep count, _Robbie_.”   
  
Robbie took a playful swipe at his arm, his heart beginning to slow down again.  “Go see if they’ve got anything on those prints, and bring me back a coffee.  Please, James.”  He sincerely hoped James would manage to mask his silly grin before he left the outer office.

 

*****

 

James had been away ten minutes or so when Robbie’s desk phone rang.  
  
“Inspector Lewis.”  
  
“Sir, could you come to Interview Room One, there’s something you need to see.”  
  
Robbie grinned, he wasn’t born yesterday; the interview observation rooms were the one place in the station guaranteed relative privacy.  He schooled his face and walked out as calmly and purposefully as he could; a senior officer skipping in the corridor was generally treated with disdain or considered drunk.  The smile that broke as he entered the observation room was wiped off when James, all business and frowns, handed him a forensic report.  
  
“They’ve already got a match on the prints.  The nephew.”  
  
“Oh.  Right.”  He scowled, his little fantasy faltering, “Why didn’t you...”  Cool fingers and warm lips against his neck startled him and he instinctively ducked and twisted his neck to capture James’ lips.   
  
“You didn’t lock the door.”  James drew away for breath, his hands stroking Robbie’s chest.  
  
“You kissed me in front of Innocent and the office and you’re worried about an unlocked door?”  Robbie’s lips were against James’ jaw.  
  
“That was different, this is...”  
  
They leapt apart at the click of the door handle.  DI Laxton walked in on James leaning against the glass, glowering, and Robbie perched on the edge of the desk, intently studying a file.  They glanced at her, at each other, apologised and left.  She stared after them, wondering what had disturbed Lewis so much that he hadn’t notice the file was upside down.

 

*****

 

Quick results on the prints should have been met with a quick arrest, and would have had the family not closed ranks and declared they didn’t wish to press charges.  When Lewis had to inform them that, as a result of this investigation, their nephew was now the prime suspect in series of break-ins in Summertown, they became – unreasonably, to Lewis’ way of thinking – hostile, crying harassment and victimisation.  It took all of James’ diplomacy to quell the waters and get Robbie out of the house while he still had a job.  
  
He was still grousing about “overly entitled twats” when Laura breezed in.  
  
“I called by earlier to invite you down for afternoon tea and was told you were out Summertown way, ‘rubbin’ shoulders wiv some toffs’.”  James sniggered at her fair impersonation of Hooper, and even Robbie managed a small smile.  “Anyway, there’s still some of my sister’s fruitcake and my aunt’s rich chocolate cake left if you’re interested – I really don’t want to take it home and it seems a pity to waste it...”  
  
Robbie got to his feet, “Well there’s bugger all worth doing here right now, bloody holier-than-..”  
  
“We’d be delighted to join you, Doctor; just give me few moments to readjust the Inspector’s mood and we’ll be right down,” James smiled, grateful to have a distraction for Robbie.   
  
“Come on, Sir, happy face.  Laura has tea, cake, and no entitled twats; and even if she does, they’ll be dead ones.”  
  
Robbie snorted, and followed James.  
  
The three friends settled in what passed for Laura’s office; Laura ‘played mother’, having brought in her favourite teapot and cups.  “Every now and then you need a little touch of elegance in this place.”  
  
Robbie pulled a face and scanned the small table, “Have you got any sugar, please, Laura?”  
  
“It’s Russian Caravan, Robbie.”   
  
“Tea’s tea, Laura, except when it’s bloody Earl Grey; I like sugar in me tea an’ I did say ‘please’.”  James snorted quietly as Laura rolled her eyes and went off in search of sugar.  
  
“She knows I have sugar, she’s made me tea before.”  Robbie looked at James, slightly hurt.  
  
James squeezed himself next to Robbie.  “Well, I for one am glad she forgot, because now I can do this.”  He leant in and kissed Robbie softly on the lips, smiling as Robbie kissed back, a smattering of small, silky kisses that made both of them smile.  The bang of a distant door reminded them Laura would be back all too soon, and James moved quickly back to his own chair.  
  
The door swung open.  “You really should try to...”  Laura stared from James to Robbie and back again.  Something had happened while she was a way; James was happy smug and Robbie looked far brighter than he had a few minutes ago, and Laura was certain the appearance of a sugar bowl was _not_ the reason.  “...cut back on sugar, Robbie.”  
  
“A man’s allowed his pleasures in life, Laura, sugar in me tea’s one of mine.”  He smiled at her and carefully avoided looking at James, “You wouldn’t want me to be miserable for the sake of a spoon of sugar now, would you?”  
  
Laura conceded, and silently noted the irony as she sipped her sugarless tea and ate her third piece of cake for the afternoon.

 

*****

 

Refreshed, they headed back upstairs.  “Best get the paperwork on the non-case sorted before knock-off; Innocent’s bound to be on the prowl for it.  Bloody...”   
  
“Now. Sir, don’t dampen that good mood.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure you’d find a way to cheer me up.”  
  
“I’m sure I...  **_Hooper!_** ”  
  
James pulled his wet shirt out of his trousers and away from his body as a large, brown – hot – stain spread across it.  The rest of Hooper’s tea had hit the floor and wall as he’d come hurtling around the corner.  
  
“Oh, fu...dge, Sir, sorry, Sir.  Shi—“  
  
“Hooper, disappear.  Now.”  Robbie’s face was thunderous – even James was a little perturbed.  Hooper scurried off and Robbie assessed James.  “You go get in the showers – cold as you can handle – tea scalds can be nasty.  **_Go._**   I’ll get one of your shirts; I know where you keep ‘em.”  
  
James headed off gratefully, holding the offending shirt as far from his body as possible.  
  
Robbie found James fifteen minutes later, shivering in his trousers and socks, with a small, very damp towel around his shoulders and tea-stained bundle beside him.  “It wasn’t that bad,” he said by way of explanation to Robbie’s concerned frown.  
  
“Show us.”  James sat up straight and let Robbie examine his abdomen, and marvelled that as recently as a week ago this would probably have been awkward for both of them.  “Looks all right.  Here.”  Robbie handed him a shirt, “You didn’t have any spare vests or t-shirts, sorry.”  
  
“It’ll do.  I’ll just keep my jacket on.”  
  
As James stood to tuck his shirt in, Robbie cradled the back of his neck and kissed him.  James’ eyes opened wide with surprise and gently closed as he relaxed and returned the kiss.  Both knew the door to the change room screeched, so they weren’t worried about anyone catching them unaware.   
  
“That was nice – and unexpected,” James whispered against his lips as they parted for air.  
  
“I think I’m getting the hang of this now,” Robbie grinned, “And there was no mention of any rule that said _you_ had to initiate.”  
  
“No.  No there wasn’t.  Thank God.”  James could have happily stood there all for the rest of the day, but there was paperwork to complete, and most certainly a pint or two to be had, so he dragged a reluctant Robbie back to the office.

 

*****

 

Robbie wanted to go straight home, while James wanted to go for a couple of pints and, if he was honest, a little breathing space; so they compromised.  They’d go to the pub for one pint and pick up some beers on the way home.  Between soup and cake, neither really felt hungry.   
  
James pushed his empty glass away and stood up, “Cigarette,’ he said by way of an unnecessary explanation.  
  
Robbie nodded, drained his glass and followed him a short time later.  He found him in the shadows, fiddling with a cigarette and lighter, neither lit.  When James saw Robbie, he dropped them in his pocket and, although they were the only people there, moved further into the shadows.  At some point during the day Robbie had tipped over from nervously anticipating James kissing him, to becoming impatient when he didn’t.  He couldn’t wait to get James home, where there would be no fear of getting caught out and they could...  Robbie wasn’t quite sure what.  Robbie took James’ face in his hands and kissed him soundly without hesitation, pushing him back against the wall.  James had the advantage of height – and possibly strength – but Robbie had a happy and fulfilling marriage behind him.  Robbie had discovered that kissing James wasn’t all that different to kissing Val, and one thing he knew for certain was that Val had never complained; James certainly wasn’t complaining right now either, not if the small noises he was making were any indication.  
  
“I think we should go home now, Robbie,” James gasped, gulping in air, “Or I may make an exhibition of myself.”

*****

 

James was relieved to be going to Robbie’s; if things moved too quickly he had the advantage of being able to leave, to let things cool down.  Except he wasn’t sure he wanted to.  He didn’t like feeling confused.  Uncertainty wasn’t one of his favourite companions where relationships were concerned.   
  
Robbie was slightly panicked; not about James, of James he was very certain.  It was the ‘what-ifs’ and the voice of self-doubt was making itself heard again.  _How could a fifteen minute journey take so bloody long?  Why weren’t they there yet?_  
  
The atmosphere in the car rapidly cooled.  
  
At Robbie’s, things were appropriately awkward.  Robbie played the perfect host, offering a range of refreshments, snacks and the opportunity to ‘freshen up’ – if James wanted to.  James was the considerate guest, not sitting until offered a seat, graciously accepting the offer of tea, and keeping his hands to himself.  One of them had to break, and it was James.  
  
Robbie was focused on making a pot of tea; a task made considerably harder by his trembling hands.  He went completely still when James took his hand and pulled him towards the couch.  
  
“The tea...”  
  
“Bugger the tea.”  
  
“James, I...”  
  
James silenced him with a small kiss, and another.  “You’re back to this morning, aren’t you, part of you at least.  Why?”  
  
Robbie faltered; the way James looked at him, held him, kissed him – why _was_ he doubting?  There’d been a week for James to turn around, change his mind, to rethink, and it hadn’t happened.  And he knew James as well as James would let himself be known – this wasn’t an impulse, an idea born of whimsy or mischief.  This was considered and careful, this was over-thought and analysed, because that was James.  “Because I’m a bleeding idiot,” he finally replied.  
  
Robbie closed his eyes as James descended – this was what he wanted, the decision made for him, the doubt crushed under the overwhelming evidence of James’ certainty.  Hungrily he held onto James’ shirt and opened his mouth to James.  The voice of doubt expected James to pull away as he had done the night before, and was itself chased away as James’ tongue swept along Robbie’s lower lip before plunging between his lips and tangled with his own.  Robbie’s groan started deep in his throat and James pulled him onto the couch, causing Robbie to straddle his hips.  Robbie broke away briefly and barely had time to take in his position before James tugged at his belt, pulling him down and bringing his arse to rest on his lap.  A hand fisted in his hair brought his lips back to James’.  Robbie was lost in a whirl of lips and hands, of teeth and tongues, and a complete unwillingness to take back any control.   
  
Fingers fumbled with buttons and hands slid against bare flesh; James stroked every inch of Robbie’s back that he could reach, Robbie’s eager fingers sought out James’ nipples, brushing, encircling, gently pinching.   James fought the urge to buck against Robbie’s thighs and pulled him closer in an attempt to slow down the deliciously torturous massage.  Robbie trusted him to guide him and James did _not_ want to screw up.  
  
James dropped his head, breaking the kiss to slowly explore Robbie’s exposed neck and shoulders with his mouth.  He traced small circles around the small bruise he’d left earlier, and felt Robbie tremble against him and draw back slightly.  It was all James needed to gently manoeuvre Robbie off his lap and onto the couch, where he quickly attempted to straddle him.  
  
In his haste, James pushed his knee between Robbie’s thighs and froze as Robbie thrust against his leg.  James was ready and not ready, and he was fairly certain Robbie was neither prepared nor fully aware of where things could rapidly go from here.  James sat back, one strong hand holding Robbie’s hips down, while he caressed Robbie’s cheek with the other to get his attention.  Robbie’s eyes opened with a whimper, and James swallowed hard at the desire in their depths.   
  
“You should sleep,” he laid two fingers against Robbie’s lips to stop the protest, “It’s getting... You need time to come to...”  James took a deep breath.  “If we don’t slow down now, this _will_ go further than either of us is truly ready for tonight.  You need time to process today.”  He sighed, “I need time.”  
  
James stood, more reluctantly than he’d admit to, and taking Robbie’s hand pulled him off the couch and into a hug.  Robbie clung to him.  James kept his hands still and refrained from burying his face into Robbie’s neck; this was a hug intended to calm, not arouse.  He could feel the hammering of Robbie’s heart against his chest and the small shudders as Robbie started to settle.   
  
They stood for some time – James had no idea how long – until Robbie lowered his arms and drew away slightly, his hands resting on James hips.  He didn’t look at James.”  
  
“I should go...” James began.  
  
“ _Stay_.  Please,” Robbie implored quietly, “Tomorrow’s Saturday, I want...  I’d like to know you’re here in the morning when I wake.  Please.  On the couch?”  He looked up at James, his eyes round in a plea, “I promise to stay in my room all night.”  
  
James’ will weakened.  “Okay.  On the couch; but if you come out before a decent hour in the morning, I _will_ go home.”  Robbie glared at him but James stood firm.  “You asked me to guide you, show you.  That’s all I’m doing.”  His voice softened.  “D’you think it was easy for me to stop?  I want...”  He trailed a finger lightly down Robbie’s cheek.  “God, I want _you_ , but I don’t want to rush this, to risk anything happening that you might regret.  Cooler heads in the morning, yes?”  
  
Robbie considered James words, nodded slowly and, with little enthusiasm, disappeared into the bedroom.  James knew where everything was and didn’t need help making up a bed.  He dropped onto the couch, his head in his hands.  Tomorrow.  And he allowed himself a nervous smile in anticipation.


	12. Saturday, 5 January

James woke with a start, listening carefully.  Just the heater – again.  He’d barely slept, determined to follow through on his threat to go home if Robbie approached him during the night, if only to prove he could keep his word.  He groped for his phone, groaning at the early hour and the awareness that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep now.   
  
He’d cramped up on Robbie’s couch and could only get up by rolling onto his knees and using the coffee table to drag himself up.  He fleetingly wondered if he should have thrown caution to the wind, taken Robbie to bed there and then and damn the consequences, but a cooler voice prevailed: he’d done what had to be done.  Making love to Robbie while they were both fuelled on lust and a desperate need to be with another wasn’t the bedrock for...  for what?  A happy marriage?  It _was_ a recipe for doubt and misunderstanding, though.  
  
“Shit, I need coffee,” James growled to himself, and shuffled into the kitchen.  Robbie hadn’t been kidding when he implied the cupboards were bare; there was half a loaf of stale bread in the pantry, and the fridge contained a quarter of a bottle of milk, two eggs, a random selection of near-empty condiments – and nearly a dozen beers, all leftovers from unfinished four-packs over recent weeks.   James tutted – that was going to have to change.  A quick check on the app and James had located the nearest Tesco’s open at this hour; he fossicked around for a piece of blank paper and a pen, and made up a shopping list.   
  
A quick inspection and sniff told him there was no way he was going to risk being spotted in public in his current state.  He’d spent the night in his clothes, had no spare, clean clothes in his car or here in the flat and, to top it off, even if he did, he didn’t really want to risk waking Robbie by taking a shower.  There was nothing else for it; with a heavy sigh, James found an old envelope, wrote another note and left it where he hoped Robbie would find it before he panicked – or worse. 

 

*****

 

Robbie woke, unrefreshed and frustrated; he’d had a shit of a night.  Three times he’d stood behind his closed door, fingers on the handle, and three times he’d slunk back to bed knowing damn well that James would stay true to his word.  He’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep, telling himself that patience was a virtue and not believing it once.  
  
He dreamt he heard James leaving amidst the sound of slamming doors and a racing engine.  He sat up with a jerk, tangled in the duvet.  The engine noise was real enough, though Robbie doubted James was fleeing on a motorcycle; the door could have been anywhere, including in his mind.  He settled back against the pillows and wondered if James considered six-thirty a reasonable hour.  Scrubbing his hands across his face he decided to risk it.  
  
His heart rate began to climb and the butterflies in his stomach rapidly started to resemble bats when it was evident James was no longer in the flat.  A quick look out the window revealed a gap where James’ car had been the night before.   
  
Trembling, he lowered himself into one of the dining chairs, repeating “Don’t panic,” over and over in his mind.  His hands clutched the edge of the table, and he closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly.  _Think, man.  James isn’t going to just run off and leave you, not after this week.  Think!_ Steadier now, Robbie scanned the room and spotted a new object attached to the fridge.  _A note?_   That’s more James’ style.  Robbie willed himself to move.  
  
James was a mystery to most and, even with Robbie, he could speak in riddles; this wasn’t one of those times.  Robbie replaced the note, and with balance restored went to shower and dress.  He picked his clothes with care; his favourite jeans, the denim soft and loose from wear, and the mid-blue soft cotton shirt and dark grey lambswool cardigan Lyn had bought for his last birthday.  He decided socks would have to do; there was no point in putting shoes on if he wasn’t going out, and he still hadn’t replaced his old slippers.  He checked the clock: seven-thirty.  He made himself a cup of tea, sat on the couch and, having turned off all the lights, waited in the dim morning light; James’ note had asked him to wait.

>   
>   
>  Dearest Robbie  
>   
>  You’ve nothing in – fool am I for  
>  doubting your veracity.  
>   
>  If today goes the way I (and I hope  
>  you) would like it to go, we’re  
>  going to need a decent breakfast,  
>  at the very least.  
>   
>  I’m stopping by my flat for a shower  
>  and a change of clothes; I didn’t  
>  want to disturb you and I’m  
>  not fit ~~for polite company~~ to be near  
>  anyone with a sense of smell.  
>   
>  I’ll be back as quickly as I can.  
>  If I’m not back by 8.00, call me; I’m  
>  probably in Tesco’s trying to pick  
>  the freshest spinach leaves, or  
>  something equally fussy.  
>   
>  Wait for me.  
>  Please.   
>   
>  I like the cardigan Lyn bought you  
>  – have I told you that before? I like
> 
> the feel of it, the feel of you.  It  
>  makes me want to touch you, not  
>  that I need any encouragement.  
>   
>  ~~I want you.~~    
>  I need you and want  
>  to be with you.  
>   
>  Your James  
>  xx  
> 

Keeping an eye on the window, Robbie saw James’ car pull up.  He stayed on the couch, turning so he could see the door, his shoulder pushed into the backrest.  His untouched tea sat on the coffee table, rapidly cooling.  From the shadows he watched as the outside light spilled into the hall through the open door before James’ silhouette pushed through.  He marvelled at how silently James moved, the rustling of the bags drowning out his soft steps.  When James flicked on the kitchen light he understood why; James was also in stockinged feet, and Robbie assumed his shoes were in the bag he placed on the floor.  James wore a frown of concentration as he unpacked the bags, moving easily between bench, fridge and pantry.  Robbie forced down the lump that rose in his throat at the simple domesticity of the scene.   
  
James took a look around the kitchen and headed up toward the bedroom.  He stopped and stared at the open door and empty bed before taking a step back to listen at the bathroom door.  He straightened up and turned around slowly, his gaze falling on the couch and Robbie.  A slow smile lit his face, and when Robbie hesitantly smiled back James moved decisively toward the couch, slipping into the seat next to him.   
  
Gently laying one hand on Robbie’s thigh, James leant in and kissed him softly and slowly – light, feathery kisses they both enjoyed.  He rested his forehead against Robbie’s and stroked his arm through the soft wool; he felt Robbie’s trembling ease.  “Good morning.  You wore it,” he whispered with a smile, “Did you miss me?”   
  
“Aye, I did,” and Robbie hungrily sought out James’ lips again, one hand at the side of his neck, drawing him down.  James moved so that he was kneeling on the couch, and held Robbie’s face gently between his palms.  James refused to let Robbie deepen the kiss – it was too early; they had all day and James wanted them to take their time and savour this.  
  
James gradually broke the kiss, ignoring the protest from Robbie and the hands tugging at his sleeve, and pulled Robbie to his feet.  “Breakfast,” he said emphatically, “I didn’t start running around Oxford in the pre-dawn light for nothing.”  He started to walk backwards, bringing Robbie with him, enticing him, “I got all your favourites: eggs, bacon, chipolatas, tomatoes, baked beans, freshly ground coffee – I even got that soda bread you like.”   
  
Robbie’s protests faltered; he hadn’t eaten a proper meal since soup at James’ – neither of them had – and look how that nearly ended up.  He let James lead him into the kitchen and started following orders.  
  
As the aroma wafted through the flat Robbie’s hunger kicked in, and he was grateful for James’ thoughtfulness.  It didn’t stop him from trying to distract James with kisses and hugs, most of which James kindly and deftly deflected.  As James was setting the plates out on the bench, Robbie stepped up behind him, his hands gliding under James’ jumper and attempting to untuck his shirt.  
  
“ _Robbie._ ”  James was smiling but his voice made it clear he wasn’t taking any nonsense.  “Food first, love-making later.”   
  
Robbie stepped back, speechless.  While he knew, or at least had more than a fair idea, where everything was heading – and was a more than willing student – to hear it stated so directly was disconcerting, and the wisdom of all James’ actions came home in a rush.  Robbie suddenly felt naive and lost and it showed.  James cradled Robbie’s face, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.  Trust me?”  
  
Robbie nodded and covered James’ hands with his own, “You said from the beginning I could say ‘stop’ at any time, but you never let it get that far.  Why?”  
  
James faltered, “I...I didn't know if I would be able to stop myself if I waited for you to realise you were out of your... comfort zone, and say no.  Desire, lust; they can take us well past our rational, normal limits – ‘crimes of passion’ wouldn’t exist otherwise.”  James exhaled painfully.  “I knew it would be better – safer – if I made myself stop when it was starting to look...  when you were starting to look... when I knew _I_ wouldn’tstop if I kept going.  That first night here, half-naked, touching you,” Robbie flushed at the memory, and James lifted Robbie’s chin slightly so he was looking into his eyes.  “When you grabbed my arse the way you did, I nearly dragged you to that orthopaedic mattress of yours there and then.  There was no way in hell I was going to get through a night at Innocent’s – a night anywhere near you – without being in danger of...  Every day since then has been...the greatest bliss and the most painful torture.”  
  
“Oh.”  Robbie floundered for a bit and shut his mouth tight when he realised there was nothing else to be said.    
  
A low rumble reminded Robbie that a much-needed cooked breakfast was waiting for them.  It was barely enough to distract him from the images James had inadvertently put in his mind, but it would have to do.  
  
They ate in silence, neither really wanting to talk.  Their ankles were tangled together under the table, and several times James held and stroked Robbie's hand in reassurance.

 

*****

 

Heading into the bathroom, Robbie noticed James slipped into the bedroom with one of the bags he brought in.  _Must be his shoes._   Though it seemed an odd thing to do, Robbie didn’t give it another thought.  
  
Robbie was almost finished when James came into the bathroom.  He stood to one side so James could also brush his teeth.  As he dried his hands and face, Robbie studied James’ reflection.  
  
“You look as tired as I feel,” he said quietly as he moved behind James, pressing against his back and slipping one arm around his waist while the other rested on a narrow hip.   
  
“I suspect neither of us slept well.”  James held Robbie’s gaze in the mirror and leant back slightly into the embrace.   
  
Robbie nodded and stretched up slightly so he could rest his chin on James’ shoulder.  “So.  The twelfth day of Christmas.”  Robbie saw the corner of James mouth started to turn up slightly.  “Uh oh, what have you got planned?”  Worry lines started to appear on Robbie’s face.”  
  
“Done it.”  There was no hiding the quiet satisfaction in James’ voice  
  
Robbie looked perplexed.  
  
James grinned cheekily.  “Your breakfast.”  
  
Robbie blinked rapidly, still no wiser.  
  
“Think about it.”  James pushed away from the sink so he could turn around and slip his arms around Robbie’s waist.  He moved in close, his face mere inches from Robbie’s.  When Robbie simply frowned at him, James smiled broadly, “ _Two_ eggs; _three_ rashers of bacon; _two_ chipolatas; _one_ tomato, halved; _one_ serve of baked beans, _two_ slices of toast and _one_ cup of good Columbian coffee – twelve items.”   
  
Robbie was silent for a moment.  With a huffed laugh he beamed at James.  “Bet you think you’re very clever coming up with that?”  
  
James shook his head, his eyes dropping away, “Not really, it only occurred to me when I started cooking – I originally planned to give you two tomatoes; I really had no idea what I was going to do today.”  
  
Robbie’s grin slowly faded, and he leant in with every intention of kissing James, until a long, deep yawn forced its way out.  James snorted and pulled Robbie into a hug.  “Can’t have you in this state at this time of the morning.”  He was slightly muffled against Robbie’s neck, the soft vibration of lips against sensitive neck making Robbie shiver, “What would you say to a couple more of hours of sleep, together, and then we...”  He kissed the pale skin, soft, warm, wet, his tongue making slow circles as he licked and sucked at Robbie’s collarbone.  
  
Robbie’s hand flew to James’ head, “There’ll not be much sleeping if you keep that up.”  He remembered the scene in James’ kitchen and held in the moan that rose to his lips.  It _was_ tempting, the idea of a bit more sleep before...  He felt the heat rise in his body as images rushed unbidden to his mind again and the moan broke free.  James’ hands tightened around his body and he felt the edge of James’ teeth against his shoulder.   
  
James continued his heated exploration of Robbie, wet kisses working their way up his neck, jaw and finally his mouth as Robbie turned his head to capture him, fingers threaded through his short blond hair.  They leant against the sink, locked together.  
  
Robbie drew away first, only an inch, breathing heavily, his body tingling, electric where James’ hands roamed over him.   
  
“I need you and want to be with you, too,” he panted, “I’m not going to be any more ready than I am today.  I’m yours, pet, I’m in your hands.  Completely.”  
  
James took it all in at once: though breathless, the evenness of Robbie’s voice; the sincerity of his words; the calm in his face; the steadiness of his hands; the submission in his eyes; and the tiredness threatening to overtake everything.  
  
James slipped from between Robbie and the sink.  He grabbed Robbie’s hand and tugged him toward the bedroom.  He carefully unbuttoned the cardigan and shirt and pushed them off Robbie’s shoulders, catching them as they fell and draping them over the chair.  His own jumper and shirt followed swiftly, straight over his head, and his hands deftly undid Robbie’s jeans.  He pushed his hands between denim and boxers, shoving the heavier fabric over Robbie’s hips; Robbie stepped out of them as they bunched as his ankles and James’ jeans joined them.  James led Robbie to the bed, grabbing Robbie’s hands as he started to remove his boxers.  “Not yet,” he murmured, holding Robbie’s hands as he kissed him slowly; they both shivered from the kiss and the air against bare, heated skin.  “Bed?”  He took Robbie’s soft whimper as a ‘yes’.

 

*****

 

Lying face-to-face, James brushed his fingers over Robbie’s face and through his hair, gently stroking from temple to the base of his neck, and along his bare shoulder. Robbie’s lower hand rested on the pillow and James’ cheek rested in his palm, his other hand slipped around James’ waist, holding him near.  Their eyes spoke for them.  
  
James gradually increased the pressure of his hand, caresses becoming a massage, and Robbie’s eyes began to droop as James made soothing noises with each stroke.  
  
James continued as Robbie’s breathing dropped into the steady rhythm of the sleeper. When he was certain Robbie was in a deep slumber, James brushed a light kiss to the palm on the pillow and closed his eyes, his hand resting against Robbie’s neck.  James knew if _he_ needed more sleep, Robbie definitely did; he’d allow Robbie a small grumble about ‘lost time’ later if he wanted it.  He let his mind wander over the past days, marvelling at how far they had come and where they were yet to step.

 

*****

 

Robbie wriggled and, with a gasp, his eyes flew open.  He was on his back, the duvet in a mound over his chest and, _Oh God_ , there it was again.  Hands flung the covers back to find James, his tongue working around Robbie’s nipple.  James lifted his head, a slow smile appearing.  
  
“From memory, you liked me touching you here; I thought I confirm my suspicions.”  His tongue encircled the hardened flesh again and Robbie shivered.  “Been doing this for a while; I thought you were going to sleep all day.”  
  
James moved up and off Robbie’s body, and lay on his side with his head on the pillow, hand tucked under his the side of his face.  “Feeling better now?”   
  
“Yeah,” Robbie sighed peacefully, “You know, sometimes you’re smarter than you look.”  
  
James humphed, “Oh, and _I’m_ the cheeky sod?”   
  
Robbie turned his head and looked at James fondly.  “Aye, you are,” he whispered, softly, kindly.  
  
James rose up on his elbow, looking down at Robbie.  Placing his palm firmly against Robbie’s chest he lowered himself down and kissed him.  A small chaste kiss at first, waiting for Robbie to kiss him back, then he deepened the kiss.  James probed with his tongue, willing Robbie to open up to him and he wasn’t disappointed.  Robbie’s hands found James’ back, holding him in place.  James’ hands began to wander, playing with nipples, stroking the sensitised skin of Robbie’s side, brushing down over his boxers, over hip and thigh, coming up over thigh, groin and stomach.  He felt Robbie hardening and smiled as Robbie’s cock jerked under the thin cotton as his hand passed over.  
  
This was it, the last day of Christmas and the first day of – oh dear God, the first day of everything, because nothing would ever be as it was.  Even the smallest of gestures would have new meaning, and there was so much more to discover about each other.  James had a heart he wanted to share, to help Robbie carry the weight of his sorrow and feelings of guilt over Val, and James wanted to be with someone who could bring him through his past; he knew in the depths of his being that Robbie was that person.  
  
James’ lips moved down Robbie’s jaw, sucking the pale skin below his ear.  “My beloved is mine and I am his,” he murmured as his kisses lined a path to Robbie’s collarbone, softly nipping, sucking, tongue swirling, hands moving ceaselessly.  Beneath him Robbie writhed, quiet moans and sighs breathed out with each new experience, fingers running over James’ cropped hair.  
  
James shifted himself so he was half-lying on Robbie, his hard cock pressing against Robbie’s thigh, and he began to rock very slowly.  Robbie’s eyes opened wide and a hand found James’ arse, pulling him in, matching James’ rhythm.  Robbie’s breath caught in his throat, and he was certain his heart stuttered, as James’ hand glided under the waistband of his boxers, over his stiff cock and cupped his balls.  
  
James kept his hand very still and returned to Robbie’s mouth, kissing him hard and deep.  Robbie kissed back fiercely and, drawing one leg up for leverage, pushed himself on to his side, pressing James back.  James’ hand carefully massaged Robbie’s balls and pressed one finger firmly against his entrance.  Robbie gasped into James mouth, lost in desire and willing to go wherever James led.  
  
“Oh, Christ, James,” and he tried to thrust against James’ arm.   
  
James slid his hand to Robbie’s hip, holding him steady and pushing him back down.  Ignoring his protest, James rolled up onto his knees and pushed one between Robbie’s thighs, just above the knee.  His other hand steadied him against the mattress as he plundered Robbie’s mouth once more, before swiftly moving down his jaw and neck to his chest, once more sucking a nipple in between his lips and teasing mercilessly with his tongue.  A soft palm moved up from Robbie’s hip, raising gooseflesh on its path.  James felt Robbie’s groan through his hand and his mouth, sending a shudder through him.  He forced himself to sit back slightly and laid his long fingers against Robbie’s hot chest.  
  
James kept still, and, bit by bit, Robbie’s eyes opened, glazed with arousal.  “Robbie?”  James’ voice was low and soft, “ _Robbie?_ ”  Slowly Robbie’s eyes focused on James.  “Do you trust me?” James murmured.  
  
“With my life, bonny lad.”  
  
James smiled at him tenderly, “I know _that_ , _Sir_ ,” he purred, “But do you trust me with your body, my love.”  
  
Robbie’s eyes widened – James didn’t think it was possible for them to be _that_ wide – and his breathing grew more rapid.  
  
“Aye, pet, I do,” he breathed, his hand reaching for the back of James neck and pulling him down.   They kissed feverishly, Robbie cradling James’ head between his hands.  James drew away and began a slow descent down Robbie’s body with lips, tongue and fingers.  Robbie felt a fluttering against his chest as James kissed lower and lower; he tucked his chin to his chest to see, and held his breath as James’ eyelids flickered and his lashes swept tiny arcs across his tingling skin.  
  
When he felt tugging at his boxers Robbie raised his hips, and James neatly removed them, dropping them over the side of the bed before slipping out of his own.  James, now nestled between Robbie’s knees, sat back on his haunches and let his gaze pour over Robbie, laid out naked and aroused, before he stretched forward to reach under the pillows, coming way with a small tube.  Robbie watched him though half-closed eyes and frowned in dazed confusion.  
  
“Lubricant.”  James held up the tube.    
  
“What d’you need that... oh.”  _That’s what was in the... oh my._  
  
“It’s a bit nicer than...saliva,” James grimaced then smiled, “You can say...”  
  
“I know; ‘ _stop_ ’ at any time.”  Robbie settled back against the pillows.  
  
James popped the cap and spread some of the clear gel over his fingers.  He trailed the back of his hand lightly up the underside of one of Robbie’s knees and inner thigh, until his warm, wet fingers could wrap loosely around Robbie’s cock.  With a skilful twist of his wrist, James covered Robbie with the now-warm lube, a smile flickering as Robbie grunted a sigh at his touch.   
  
James slicked himself up and slowly began to lower himself onto Robbie.  Robbie started off the mattress as James’ wet cock slid against his own and he felt James’ balls touch his thigh.  James gently pinned Robbie by his shoulders and kissed his way up toward his neck, making comforting noises, and Robbie relaxed.  Tummies then chests met as James nuzzled the base of Robbie’s throat, and their cocks moved smoothly together as he began to rock his hips.  Robbie, remembering his hands, traced cool lines down James’ back and arse with his fingertips, drawing forth shuddering sighs.   
  
Instinctively, Robbie drew his knees up and let his thighs fall open as the rocking progressed into thrusting; James’ cock stroked Robbie’s full length, his ball sac slapping softly against Robbie at the top of each stroke.  A tiny voice whispered to Robbie that he was in a submissive position, a voice quickly drowned by the flood of new sensations.  If this was what it was like to have someone else take control, then Robbie was more than happy to be dominated in bed.  
  
Robbie moaned with pleasure as James changed rhythm and pressure, driving harder and faster against him.  James’ face was buried against Robbie’s neck, sucking, nipping, softly grunting with each stroke; he held his weight off Robbie, bracing himself with his hands pressed into the mattress either side of Robbie’s shoulders.  Robbie’s eyelids fluttered as the first ripples of his orgasm coursed through him, and his hands grasped James’ arse, moving with each thrust, his hips rising to match James.  He came hard, pulsing wet and hot over their stomachs, his thighs tightening around James’ hips as he rode each wave.  James tipped over the edge within a few strokes, fuelled by Robbie’s cries of joy.  
  
His trembling arms no longer able to hold him, James collapsed against Robbie’s chest with a muffled grunt.  For a few minutes, the only sound was their heavy panting.   
  
James recovered first, rolling his body to one side, pulling a face at the soft, slurping sound as he pulled his lower body away.  Propping himself up on one elbow, he peeled off a pillow case and gently cleaned himself and Robbie as best he could, dropping the stained fabric to the floor behind him.  The air chilled the sweat that still covered his body and he groped for the duvet, silently promising to buy Robbie a new cover; he was too contented and loose-limbed to consider leaving the bed for anything.  Fumbling, he tucked the cover around both of them, and laid his hand and head on Robbie’s chest.  He felt and heard Robbie’s heart’s rapid tattoo decrease in tempo and volume as Robbie slipped deeper into sleep.  Pushing his head up to Robbie’s shoulder, Robbie’s arm stretched out under his neck, James also drifted off into a heavy slumber.

 

*****

 

Robbie was kissing him in the middle of The Broad – and James didn’t care.  A kiss that good, that sweet, _that true_ , shouldn’t be hidden.  He moaned deeply as those surprisingly soft lips suckled the base of his throat and he felt his cock begin to harden against...  against bare skin that wasn’t his.  
  
James cried out in surprise and his eyes flew open.  Strong arms held him firm.   
  
“Hush, lad, what on earth...”  
  
He stared into the depths of those blue eyes he knew as well as, if not better, than his own, and began to chuckle.  “I dreamt...”  James lunged forward seeking Robbie’s lips and was met with equal force, limbs tangling as each sought to pull the other as close as humanly possible.  James broke away with a small giggle and a wide grin, and told Robbie his dream.  
  
Robbie gazed at him for several long seconds afterwards, his eyes as brilliant as James’.   
  
“Your James.  That’s what you wrote on the note, _‘Your James’_ – my James.”  James smiled shyly, his eyes gentle and honest as he half-closed them and nuzzled Robbie’s neck.  
  
“Mmm hmm.”  
  
Robbie laughed a sigh, “You really _are_ my James.”  
  
James pushed himself halfway on top of Robbie and looked down into his eyes and murmured, “For as long as we both shall live.”  A brief flash of panic passed across James’ face.  “If... if you want me, that is.”  
  
“Oh God, I do, bonny lad, I do.”  Cradling his head in both hands, Robbie kissed him slowly, deeply.  
  
“That sounds like a vow,” James whispered when he could breathe again.  
  
“It is, pet.”

 

~~~~~ fin ~~~~~

 


End file.
